


Would You Like Fries With That?

by Lisacreature



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Biology, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Artist Keith (Voltron), Drive Thru AU, Fluff, Food, Galra Keith (Voltron), Gay Disaster Shiro (Voltron), Human Shiro (Voltron), Keith has an Uncle!, Keith's Father (Voltron) Lives, M/M, Omega Keith (Voltron), Omega Verse, Pre-Kerberos Mission, Slow Burn, Socially Awkward Keith (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2020-10-12 13:27:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 30,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20565098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lisacreature/pseuds/Lisacreature
Summary: Tex Kogane was a man with many secrets and few could vouch if 'Tex' was his real name or where he came from before he arrived in the small, dying town of Oasis, Texas.However, fewer realised that his greatest and most treasured secret was the voice that welcomed customers to the Kogane Drive Thru everyday - his son Keith Kogane, banished to a life of enforced social isolation, judged guilty since birth of being half alien.___Or, Keith comes into his alien heritage in early childhood.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am not very good at writing these notes but here are some things to look out for: 
> 
> * Tex Kogane lives in this AU  
* Keith is a Galran Omega but humans don't have A/B/O dynamics  
* Complicated and stupid political reasons mean that Shiro cannot get a full wage from garrison
> 
> Also, I am not an American but I have tried to be considerate of American cultural references when writing this, though I will not subject myself to American spelling - I am sorry but no that is a sacrifice that I am not willing to make.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Update 4/4/2020:   
Artwork by the wonderful Aether-Staza - here's their Twitter page if you want to see more of their wonderful art:   
https://twitter.com/aetherstaza?lang=en

Tex Kogane was an anxious parent, something he never imagined in his youth of ever being – both a parent and in a constant state of anxiety. Back in his younger days of exploits and shenanigans and some added work for the garrison, he never believed he would meet a woman that could turn his head from an engine or a gun. Turned out there was a woman with that power and typically she was from out of this world, literally. Krolia was magnificent, standing at six feet tall, his exact height, violet skin that was soft to the touch (even after her many travels in space) and her small but sweet smile – they were only together for not even a year, but it felt that they just belonged. Again, Tex was not a sappy man, but Krolia brought out this whole other side of him, even now somewhere halfway around the universe. He hoped that she still remembered him, that maybe, even if she had moved on with another…person(?) she remembered the happy months they spent together and the beautiful boy they created.

These days Tex found himself worrying over the future of his son, Keith. When he was born he looked as pale as him and completely human looking and they had agreed, albeit reluctantly, that Keith needed to stay here on earth – space and galactic war was no place to raise a human baby. Krolia had softly kissed Keith’s forehead as he drifted off to sleep, his mother’s alien lullaby soothing him one last time. It was the most heart wrenching thing he ever had to watch, the mother of his child saying goodbye. He helped her climb into the then repaired ship, its engine springing to life at the touch of a button, glowing a harsh purple, so unlike Krolia’s gentle violet colouring.

‘This isn’t the end,’ he had told her, tears springing from his eyes knowing that most likely it was the end.

They kissed. Her clawed hands caressing his stubbled cheeks.

‘Give him this, he might need it someday,’ she said, producing her treasured blade that she kept on her person at all times.

That night, he watched her ship fly out of his atmosphere until she became a tiny dot in the sky, like a shooting star she couldn’t stop, she had to keep fighting.

It was when Keith turned seven that the problems began. Tex had been working on Mr Gundersoon’s old Ford Mustang when he received the call. Keith was in the principal’s office. This wasn’t the first time Keith had ended up with the principal glaring down at him – the boy, though small, was very good in a fight and refused to ever back down. It probably didn’t help that both his parents were the same.  
He wasn’t overly shocked, though disappointed that yet again he had to have the same talk with his son – that no, fists were not the answer to all your problems. But then the principal’s secretary, he forgot her name, said the words that still haunted his dreams.

‘He’s superglued some fluffy ears and a tail to himself and he’s causing a distraction for the other students. Please could you collect him and take him to the hospital to get them removed.’

He had dropped his manager’s phone and fled the garage, diving into his rusty truck and sped down the pot holed road to the beat-up Elementary School. He found Keith sitting opposite the principal at a makeshift desk, doing some homework to be done for the next day.

Those ears weren’t fake, nor were they superglued on, same as the tail, it was all Keith. He could even see a tattered hole at the back of his pants where the tail had to be routed through.  
‘I’ve never seen anything like it,’ the principal had murmured, his bushy moustache twitching in distaste, his secretary was slightly more open, muttering how his boy was even able to control his new appendages.

He marched Keith out of the building, his hands shaking because he knew that this was no prank, Keith was not a prankster and he had little patience for the class clowns.

They didn’t drive to the hospital but instead went straight home, he covered his son in his denim jacket so as to cover his ears. After almost trapping Keith’s tail in the door they arrived home, the boy still bundled in his arms, his little shoulders shaking as he began to sob.

He didn’t know what to do, he couldn’t let Keith go back to school and if he took him to the hospital they would turn him into a freaky experiment to poke and prod at and that was before the garrison would get involved, if they or the FBI ever found his boy…

Keith tried to pull his ears off for over an hour until they began to bleed as his fingernails transformed to claws and his skin turned a lighter shade of purple, not like Krolia’s stronger violet colouring. He explained to Keith everything that night until the early hours of the morning, his mother, her Galran heritage and even the war. And Keith was hurting, he could see as he revealed more and more of his past. It had all been to protect him, that he hadn’t been ready to know the truth. But it still hurt both of them.

It was decided that night that they would ditch the small town of Springs and head further south, his old uncle still ran a Drive-Thru in Texas along route 66 – the man was blind and struggling to keep his business afloat. Tex hadn’t seen him in years, but it was their only way out – if they stayed in Springs people would begin to ask questions once Keith failed to return to school or attend doctors’ appointments. By 4 A.M. they had managed to squeeze all their possessions into the truck, with just enough room for Keith to buckle in and rest his head on a duffle bag.

It would be another week before Keith spoke to him again.

(Ten years later…)

Keith hated Fridays, an unnatural thing for most normal seventeen-year olds, but then again most seventeen year olds didn’t possess some whacky ears and tail with a mind of its own, not to mention his purple complexion. For that reason, Friday’s reminded him on how lonely his life was – working at a cheap old Drive-Thru and just being some faceless voice taking peoples greasy orders – it was on Fridays though when he had to take the multiple orders from groups of friends from the garrison. They were all close to his age, but they were all so different from him, besides the ears and tail. They’ve gone through school, some of them knowing each other from kindergarten, they’ve been to prom, had their first kiss, attended football or baseball games and snuck out passed curfews. Keith has never done any of those things, he’s been home-schooled since he was ten, he’s never been to a proper football game and of course no person outside his family which consists of two people, his dad and uncle, he can count as a friend, let alone as a boyfriend (to add to his woes he was also gay). He wasn’t trapped, at least not by his family, it was his body, his alien body – something that he has hated for so long. It was his cell, locking him away from the life he could have.

He flicked his right ear in distaste, the sting feeling almost satisfying – like a worthy punishment for its existence.

‘Morning pa,’ he said, walking into the brown kitchen – everything was brown, the counters, appliances – even the flower wallpaper that was peeling at the corners. This place hadn’t seen colour since the 1960s when the whole world discovered it for the first time.

Pa was cooking bacon and eggs at the cooker, the oil spitting and crackling, ‘morning kiddo, you want eggs?’

Keith nodded and sat himself down at the kitchen table, ‘Where’s uncle?’

‘Sleeping outback in his hammock, going to have to wake him soon if we want to open up in time.’

Though his uncle was old and blind he was still a ruthless businessman at heart, a bit like Mr Krabs from SpongeBob SquarePants, the cartoon that practically prepared him for life in the fast food world.

‘I was thinking, there’s a comet shower tonight, a big one – maybe we could go to the canyon to the shack – shoot some cans and watch the comets? It’ll be fun.’

Keith scoffed at his dad’s suggestion. He rarely left the Drive-Thru these days, not since his close call last winter – he had started getting these horrible fevers every few months and they’d been driving him up the wall, literally. He had climbed out of a window and walked down to the gas station that was about five miles away, luckily, he had been wearing a hoodie that covered his ears and his tail was tucked into his pants. In his feverish state he had tried to steal some water bottles and chocolate bars. He was caught very quickly, and the cops were called, and his pa managed to convince them to let him go – at that point his pants became drenched in a strange slick like liquid which made him look like he had wet himself, the cops probably didn’t want to have to clean that up so they let him go with a warning. But, since that last disastrous outing he hadn’t stepped outside, not even after dark with his dad to shoot cans. He didn’t want to lose control again, that had been too close.

‘No thanks.’

He pinched a piece of bacon from the pan and slapped it in between two slices of toast and quickly walked outback towards the hammock – his ears pricked up, catching the soft sigh his dad released when he thought he was out of earshot. Keith raised his hand and flicked his left ear.

In the backyard was a dead tree, a rusty old barbeque, a hammock and three white plastic chairs that had seen better days on a poolside somewhere, maybe in Miami. The Kogane’s weren’t known as landscapers, gardeners or interior designers, all but Keith were blind to the style of their home. Sometimes, Keith could feel an itch that went down into his fingertips, making him want to do things like rip down wallpaper, collect rugs and blankets and just make a comfortable home. He supposed it was understandable for him to want something he had never had, even before they had to move to his uncle’s place, home never felt like a real home, he always knew something was missing.

A mother.

But, that was something he wished for before he grew his ears and tail and turned purple. Nowadays, he couldn’t stand the thought of her, though his pa hated for him to think that it was true – she had left him, left them. She had created him – how could she bring him into this world and then leave him?

Keith shook his head, it was never good of him to think about her – he didn’t even know what she looked like. Probably purple, with ears and tail, just like him.  
He felt an empty space, before, that empty space was behind him, where she would have stood alongside his pa. Now this space had moved to by his side, where a partner would be.

‘Keith? Is that you moping about out there? Keith!’ shouted his uncle, his voice hoarse from his snoring.

He smiled, ‘Yes uncle its me.’

‘Well don’t just stand there! Help me get out of this death trap!’

The hammock was swinging dramatically from side to side and his uncle’s arms were flailing rapidly.

‘I told you before that your lying in that thing wrong.’

‘Yeah, yeah stop your preaching and help an old man out would ya?’

Keith took hold of his uncle’s arm and hoisted him out of the cloth like coffin. His face was beet red with exertion, the man was massively overweight having worked many years with greasy, salty food and drinking too much beer – which made the hoisting that much harder for Keith. He hadn’t inherited his dad’s height nor even his uncle’s – he was stuck at 5 ft 6 and it showed whenever he had to stack the shelves or help his uncle out of the hammock, again.

Finally, the big guy was out and free, his hands shaking in his.

‘Thanks boy don’t know what I’d do without ya,’ he said with a toothy grin.

‘You got pa.’

‘Yeah, a load of shit help he is! I’m blind and I swear he’s deaf!’

Watching his uncle walk back into the house, his steps confident, using only his stick. Keith couldn’t help but feel that this had been repeated so many times before, since he was a scared ten-year-old boy seeing his (then hundred pounds lighter uncle) walking with such assuredness towards him. It made him wish that he could do that, to walk in the sun and just be happy with what and who he was. It would make his dad happier at least.

‘Oi Keith, come help me out with the old girl would ya!’ called his uncle, the ‘old girl’ being the ancient deep fat fryer that was made during the Second World War and probably only ran on uranium.  
Keith dived back into the house running past his pa who was still in their private kitchen, he was staring out of the window again looking up at the clouds, lost in his thoughts. He knew he was looking for his mother, even his uncle knew who just shook his head in his rough direction.

In the ‘proper’ kitchen the old girl needed a good clean, possibly a bleach bubble bath for the next ten years as well, but they didn’t have time for that – soon they would have customers to feed and to be honest they didn’t care that the fat fryer still had engrained chunks of fat, grease, oil and mysterious gooey bits since probably his uncle’s opening night. Customers just wanted salt and that’s all they cared for.

Besides, they’ve never had a health inspection in all the time Keith had lived at the Drive-Thru. Uncle believed that the health department thought he’d had closed down by now, what with the likes of McDonalds and Taco Bell not ten miles down the road from them.

By 7 a.m. the fat fryer and the rest of the kitchen was ready for business and Keith was ushered to ‘his office’ which was a small, windowless room with a desk, an old computer that he had reprogrammed himself and a mic – he was the voice that welcomed drivers and took their orders which were sent onto his uncle in the kitchen before being handed out by his pa. It was a chain of just three people, but they made it work – thanks in part to Chef Mike, i.e., the microwave. Keith would have loved to have seen Chef Ramsay’s reaction to their set-up. But they rarely got complaints, people knew they were eating salty junk, but it was cheap and tasty so why bother expecting something better?

The first orders came in at ten past seven, the blue pick-up truck being driven by one of their usual Friday morning regulars. Keith didn’t know the guy’s name, just his registration plate, and he ordered the same thing each day – the meat buster burger, two sides of fries, some onion rings and a large Pepsi. Compared to some of their other customers, that was considered a light meal.

After him other customers dripped on in like the leaky faucet in the kitchen that no one could be bothered to really fix.

Burgers, fries and deep-fried burritos were the main orders of the morning and by lunch time Keith had filled in three pages of his sketchbook with a rough comic book sketch. It was half-past one when his most loathed regular arrived. Technically he had two regulars that he despised, both of them coming from the garrison outside of town. They were also both space cadets as well which informed his opinion on all past, present and future space explorers – that they were all dip shits.

The one that arrived today was a guy called James and he only knew that was his name because he always arrived with his clique who would whine his name aloud when they wanted him to order extra fries.

Before he could squeeze out a sub-par greeting he was beaten to the mark with a rushed order of five fries, three Pepsi’s, two Sprites, one meat buster burger, a veggie fried burrito and three onion ring sandwiches. Keith resisted the urge to type out ‘with saliva on the side’.

James never said thank you, he didn’t tip or even say pretty please, normally he could deal with that – heck a lot of his customers did the same thing – but what he hated most about him was his cocky belief that he was smarter than him. They’d had a one-sided confrontation (through the mic) a year ago when James first appeared having just started the space cadet programme. He had been talking to his friends whilst making an order and had kept his finger on the buzzer, forcing Keith to listen to their vastly incorrect argument on astronomy. The line of cars had begun to grow out onto the road and was causing a traffic jam. Keith had asked, maybe in not so polite terms, to just give him their order. James hadn’t released his finger from off the buzzer when he called him a ‘greasy middle school dropout’ and by the giggles in the background his friends agreed the same. His pa had to physically restrain him from marching out after him and feeding him to the coyotes.

But luckily today James whooshed off on his hoverbike with no further comments on Keith’s education, it seemed he was working as an errand boy today.

Aside from the customers voices boredom was Keith’s only companion whilst he worked, it was the only thing he could rely on being a constant as he manned the mic in the tiny, black box of a room. Looking behind him, he could see the key in the door on his side – he was the only one who could control who entered the room or as his uncle would say his paranoia was showing. That was how he liked it, though his pa disapproved, saying that this was no way for him to live.

But who would want to befriend the purple alien boy Keith had scoffed back


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some small warnings before you read on: 
> 
> * Keith's uncle doesn't like vegetarian food  
* Keith has a panic attack

Sunday morning began with a yawn that ceased to end for Keith. He hadn’t slept well the night before, drifting in and out of fitful dreams which were dominated by white lab coats and a blue flash of light. He often got strange dreams, they were sometimes weirdly accurate in a roundabout way, like when he was eight he dreamt of a glowing dagger that felt almost alive – like there was another beating heart inside it. By the time his ninth birthday came along his pa presented him with the exact same dagger. He just guessed that this was another one of his strange gifts that he was kindly bestowed upon by whatever deity spared him a passing glance. Maybe one day instead of screwing his life up even more they could just keep walking, heck he could recommend some perfect assholes that could be screwed over instead of him.

Keith flicked his right ear, the sting a nice distraction from his spiralling thoughts.

At the table his pa shot him a concerned look.

‘Don’t flick them,’ he scolded.

‘They’re only ears pa, not puppies.’

He had never told him of these dreams but knowing him he probably had an inkling that something was going on with him. He always seemed to have an uncanny knack for knowing things.

‘Whose having puppies?’ said uncle as he waddled into the kitchen, still wearing his pyjama pants.  
‘You by the looks of it, all hundred and one of them,’ said pa.

For a blind man uncle still had a withering glare and a good arm as he cuffed the back of his pa’s head like he were just a ten year old instead of a forty something ex-military adult.

Before pa could get back to reprimanding him he was quickly dragged into another argument with Uncle. Updating the menu had been long overdue but was surprisingly a hot topic for the two adults. Five years ago they had debated adding fish to the menu which was quickly shot down, it was kinda hard to find fresh fish in a desert. Nowadays the conversation revolved around pistachios and carrots.

‘McDonalds have their own veggie burger and Taco Bell have a veggie tortilla or whatever. I’m just saying, it’s stupid to ignore potential customers,’ argued pa, ‘we could perhaps offer at least a side salad or some kind of meat free option.’

Keith tried to hide his smirk behind his mug of hot chocolate. This war of words had been going on since they received an anonymous letter from a supposed foodie, likely from the garrison. Apparently he had found the food options ‘disappointing’.

‘I don’t want their dirty money,’ grunted his uncle.

‘Your being ridiculous. Its money and we need it!’

Before uncle could have the last word there was a knock at the door.

‘We’re closed!’ shouted uncle.

But the stranger insistently knocked on the door three more times. Keith pulled back the curtain a fraction and caught sight of the stranger. The man was stout and looked smart in a geeky like fashion, wearing a brown suit, a mustard yellow shirt and gaudy glasses that were also brown. He appeared far more serious than any other visitor they had received before. No one came round to their back door, there was a sign that said ‘PRIVATE’ and ‘NO ACCESS’, usually in Texas if you ignored those signs it was a good way to get shot. Uncle didn’t have a gun, probably not a good idea to give a blind man a gun, but pa had a shotgun, Keith had even used it a few times.

Sensing that he was being watched the brown suited man turned towards the window just as pa pulled him back by the scruff off his neck before he could be spotted.

‘Keith, get upstairs and lock the door,’ pa’s voice slipping into his stern Commander tone. He hadn’t heard that voice since he was six and ran straight into the road after the ice cream truck. He had gotten a spanking for that.

Keith hastily nodded and ran back to the private kitchen and up the stairs to his room, locking the door. His heart was hammering against his rib cage and he could feel a horrible nausea begin to spread from his throat down to his stomach, his tail instinctively wrapping around his right leg.

The man didn’t look like a garrison dipshit, though he seemed to favour brown so it was still a possibility. But, if he weren’t garrison then who the hell was he?! FBI! Shit, how did they find him? He hadn’t been seen by anyone since he was a kid and no one really cared enough for him back then to start chasing after him years later. Maybe he had been spotted the other night when he had to take the trash out back. But it had been pitch black, only he could see in the dark.

But then if this guy was FBI or heck could he even be one of those men in black from Area 51 or something maybe they have some kind of cameras that can see through walls or in the dark.  
His mind was reeling even though the world had stopped spinning. He couldn’t seem to jump start the logical side of his brain and he could feel the paranoia fuelled thoughts wrestling inside his head, digging their ugly purple claws into him and trying to rip him apart.

He needed to get out of his head – he hated his head, he hated his body, he hated his life, he hated what’d he had done to have brought this stranger to their home. He should have never of stepped out of the house, he should just live in that dark office, move his bed down there and just watch this world from a distance.

He didn’t want to be taken away, he’s not an alien, he’s not an alien!

_Don’t put me in a cage, don’t put me in a cage, don’t put me in a cage, don’t put me in a cage, don’t put me in a cage, don’t put me in a cage, don’t put me in a cage, don’t put me in a cage, don’t put me in a cage, don’t put me in a cage, Don’t put me in a cage, don’t put me in a cage, don’t put me in a cage, don’t put me in a cage Don’t put me in a cage, don’t put me in a cage, don’t put me in a cage, don’t put me in a cage. _

**PLEASE DON’T PUT ME IN A CAGE!**

Grabbing his dagger and Hippy the Hippo he dived into the closet. The enclosed darkness felt safe, he was buried out of sight and out of mind here. He pushed his face into the old but still soft plush. Uncle had got him Hippy when he had first arrived, having been a very quiet boy at that time uncle thought it a good idea to buy him a little welcome gift. It was a few years later, when uncle finally asked why he called his toy Hippy. He had been very confused as to why a lion would have such a strange name. That was when Keith had discovered that his uncle had been conned by some shop keep into thinking the toy was a lion.

Hippy helped, even just a little, to calm him down into a quietly sobbing mess. His cries muted by Hippy’s soft body. But the damage had still been done. His fingernails had elongated into claws during his panic attack, the things now digging into his purple skin. If he had a mirror he was certain his eyes would be glowing a horrid yellow.

Something wet slipped through his fingertips. It was blood, his blood. It was red and the only thing that was normal about him, at least appearance wise. Looking at his hands he could see that his claws had been cutting into the flesh of his arms, enough so to draw blood.

His ears perked up from the base of his skull as they picked up the sound of his pa walking up the stairs and towards his room.

Oh God please no, don’t take me away please don’t take me away!

‘Keith?’

Please no, please!

‘Keith its okay, he’s gone now, its safe,’ pa whispered, his Commander voice from earlier having departed now the coast was clear.

Keith hiccupped as he inhaled a breath too quickly. The tears in his eyes were stinging as he desperately tried to hold them back.

‘Pa?’

The closet door opened, at first a crack and then all the way. Keith flinched back to hide behind a coat. But there was no brown suited man holding a gun nor were there any garrison soldiers or scientists. There were no cages, no handcuffs and no guns. It was just pa, his pa standing there with a sad but soft smile.

He crawled out of the closet and fell into his pa’s arms.

His pa was a strong man and so carried him down the stairs to the living room where a freshly made hot chocolate waited for him on the coffee table. His uncle sat in his leather armchair with his feet resting on the foot rest as if he had had a long day at work. The inspection must have been gruelling for all of them it seemed – at least Keith could hide away in a closet, his pa and uncle had to face the inspection together.

Sitting down on the couch Keith snuggled up close to his pa who wrapped his arm around his shoulder and squeezed him tightly. He always felt safe in his pa’s arms.

‘He was a health inspector, came here to inspect the kitchen – apparently someone had sent a complaint to the authorities,’ uncle explained. By the tense tone of his voice it sounded like the inspection didn’t go well.

‘What did they say?’

‘Well’, he grunted, ‘he weren’t impressed with the old girl, said he’d never seen a fat fryer that age before, anyway he wants her gone by the time he comes back, but I ain’t getting rid of her, she just needs a good clean, a good bath will do her good.’

‘But that’s not all he said,’ pa cut in, his expression grim as he looked to his uncle.

‘He wanted to know who we had on staff and we couldn’t mention you, otherwise he’d of wanted to interview you. But he wasn’t happy to find out that it was just me and your uncle here.’

‘I reckon he don’t trust a blind man in a kitchen,’ uncle scoffed.

‘So he wants you to hire more people?’

It was hard to imagine the Drive-Thru having more than just the three of them, they worked well as a team working day in and day out together. The job was boring at times but Keith didn’t know what he’d do without it. The work kept him somewhat busy and at least he was able to speak to people, even if he was just asking if they wanted fries with their orders. They usually said yes to the fries.

‘Yes, for this place he said just one person will do to meet passing regulations.’

‘What, to replace me?’ He didn’t like the idea of being pushed out of his job by some stranger who probably had no care for the business and what it actually meant to them.

‘No, unless of course you wanted to stop working,’ said pa.

That reassured Keith, even if only a little. But still, the idea of someone else, outside of their small family working in their kitchen and so close to him. It scared him and probably pa too. It was dangerous and anyone in their right minds who ever caught a glimpse of him would call the cops at the very least.

‘Besides, fat chance we find anyone out here! All the good jobs are at the garrison, no one will want to work out here.’

It was not a good sign seeing his uncle become so defeatist – he was a stubborn man to his core. His uncle was a skilled barterer and could whittle down the price of a golden toilet if he so wanted.

‘We’ll start advertising tomorrow,’ a car beeped outside, ‘but right now we’ve got customers to serve,’ said pa, his voice betraying even his thoughts.

Just as Keith went to head to his dark office his pa caught him by the shoulder, his big hand squeezing him in a reassuring way, ‘Things will work out Keith, they always do.’

He nodded but he knew things wouldn’t work out for them, at least not with him around. He was a useless weight bolted to his pa’s ankle, a constant reminder of the mistake he made by not sending him away with his mother to be raised on some purple planet.

He shut the door to his room and turned the mic on, he then flicked both his ears for good measure. The sting was a welcome change to the tense air of uncertainty that was sure to hug the Drive-Thru for the rest of the day.

‘Good morning, can I take your order?’

‘Fucking finally!’ replied the irritable customer.

_________________

‘I am sorry Takashi, but now that you are twenty four years old you no longer can qualify for the garrison salary. You will need to find some extra income if you wish to stay on here,’ said Iverson with a grimace.

They both knew how ridiculous this whole set up was. The system had long favoured those born within the borders of the United States but often struggled to find the right intel from its native recruits. Hence, they created the international scholarship scheme where they would bring in international students to work for the garrison up until the age of twenty-four, by which point if you were an immigrant you had three options:

One, you are offered a permanent contract by the garrison to start immediately.  
Two, you marry an American – no luck for Shiro there, he broke up with Adam six months ago and even then they were nowhere near the conversation of marriage.  
Or three, you leave the USA and go back home where you might get lucky and work for an underfunded space exploration unit with small hope of ever reaching the actual stars.

Shiro didn’t want to go back to Japan, though he missed his mother’s katsu don and his brother’s continuous baseball trivia talk. He wasn’t ready to go back home, not yet. Only last year he finally got a taste of space travel when he joined a few expeditions to Mars. But space was his addiction and he needed a fix which he couldn’t get back home.

‘You will be kept on the books for another few months yet and you can still apply to positions here. You still have time Takashi.’

‘How much time?’

His voice sounding more like a beggars last wish rather than a trained pilot.

‘About six months, maybe more if I can convince the board. Your not going to be struck off completely Takashi, at least not yet.’

‘With all respect sir, it certainly feels like it, like my wings are being clipped.’

Iverson shook his head, ‘No one wants that.’

Someone must though otherwise they would have offered him a permanent contract by now. He was at the top of all his classes and the youngest pilot to fly to Mars, his teachers, higher ranking officers and the whole garrison knew him. A bitter taste seeped into his mouth, maybe the reason he hadn’t been offered a permanent contract was because of his pre-existing health condition, after all he was a ticking time bomb and could only be useful for so long. Perhaps the board decided to accept their losses now and wait for the next prodigy to come along with the new crop of recruits.

‘Sir, I have proven myself to you and the board time and time again, so why is it that the likes of Michael Wrens has been offered a full contract even though he performed poorly in all his exams and has never flown solo missions before and yet I have to hope that someone will offer me another chance.’ He tried to keep his voice firm and steady, he knew it wasn’t Iverson’s fault. He was a good man and the first to have recognised Shiro’s talent so he needed him on his side

‘Those were missions under the cadet scheme, but yes this is not…good. Look I will try and help you get onto a full mission, it shouldn’t take long but this is just another loophole we’re going to have to jump through before the garrison officially takes you on permanently.’

Gritting his teeth Shiro offered a stiff ‘thank you’ before saluting and marching out of his office.

With not even half his old salary he was going to struggle with waiting it out until a contract possibly came his way and he needed to keep his training sharp and focused, which ruled him out of any full time jobs that may have been spare.

He couldn’t ask for money from his family, they were only just scraping by.

Shiro sighed as he lost himself deeper in his thoughts. Where could he find a job that would be flexible enough for him to continue his training but paid enough to cover his rent? They would be a very gracious employer if they ever existed, which they probably didn’t or at least not around here. The desert scorched people to the core here, being used to the rough way of living.

Turning down the corridor to the dorm rooms he relegated himself to the soul crushing task of job searching for the rest of the day and possibly even for the next few weeks. He just needed to be patient, like his grandpa said ‘patience brings focus.’

But seriously, if he saw Michael Wrens he will punch him in the face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who read the first chapter and left all those kudos points <3 :) 
> 
> I am really excited with this series - I have the next ten chapters planned out and hopefully I can upload a new chapter on a weekly basis. I'm going to be starting an online creative writing course next week too so I hope my writing will quickly improve. 
> 
> Anyway please feed me with kudos, comments or bookmarks - I greatly appreciate it :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They finally, sort of, meet?

It was gone midnight and the three of them were sitting around the kitchen table trying to brainstorm how they could recruit someone from a tiny, almost ghost like town in the middle of nowhere. Pa and uncle looked drained of energy, they had been like that all day, ever since the inspection that morning. Their lives and their home was on the line now, for so long they had existed in a safe haven amongst the red rocks of the canyons and the green uniforms of the garrison lackeys. But the inspection burst that bubble of contentment. Keith couldn’t shake off the feeling that things were changing and that they will never return to what was, as if always looking over their shoulders, waiting for the net to close in.

‘Does the town still have a paper? We could always post our ad there.’ said uncle.

‘No that closed down almost ten years ago now, not enough journalists like to live in a desert,’ replied pa.

Keith had to agree with them there, unless it was Las Vegas then nothing exciting ever happened in a desert, maybe in the old days the discovery of gold was something to write home about – no luck of that happening out here though. He supposed that if he were ever to be discovered then he too could probably cause some kind of media frenzy, journalists might even consider him a kind of gold…that was purple. Keith didn’t much like the idea of all that attention, it probably came with an attachment of tranquilisers, bullets and cages.

He flicked his ear when his pa looked down into his palms. His ear flinched back before he could flick it properly so he didn’t get the rewarding sting. Damn, he thought, they’re getting smarter.

‘We could always post ads?’ he suggested with a shrug. He felt conflicted with this, on the one hand they needed the extra person to pass their next inspection but on the other hand the more people that enter this place the higher the chance of him being discovered. And it wouldn’t just be him facing the firing squad (Keith really hoped that wasn’t realistically literally) but also his uncle and pa.

‘How much will that cost in printer ink? I’m not made of cash you know!’ said uncle.

A sombre silence fell over them, the only noise coming from pa as he stirred his now stone cold coffee into oblivion. Tension was getting the better of them. They had been up since five o’clock that morning and had been chasing their tails all day, metaphorical tails for pa and uncle at least, as they tried to catch up with their chores.

‘Keep your shit together! We’ll just post an ad down at Costco and at Judy’s diner,’ said pa, sighing heavily, his shoulders drooping with each breath he took, he looked so much older than he should be at his age. Keith supposed that having an alien child probably added an extra set of wrinkles for his troubles.

‘Why don’t you go up to bed Keith, its been a long day,’ said pa.

‘But what about-‘

‘Don’t worry about us kid, you just get your rest. Let us oldies figure something out,’ said uncle, throwing a smile in his general direction. 

‘Okay, well goodnight pa, night uncle.’

Keith hugged them both, before heading up the stairs to his room. As he shut the door behind him he could feel the aged claw marks rub against his fingertips. He had made them during his last fever, his pa had had to lock him in that so as to avoid him from going walkabouts like his first fever.

Stripping out of his ratty red hoodie and jeans and into his hippo onesie he slipped into his bed, he held Hippy close to his chest as he listened out for the hushed whispers of conversation from the kitchen below.

‘How long can this last for?’ said uncle

‘I don’t know, I don’t know what to do.’ Replied pa, his voice sounding like he was close to the verge of tears.

They didn’t know that Keith’s hearing had vastly improved over the last few years, his ears were super sensitive to sound – he only hoped that they didn’t evolve into hearing people’s thoughts, he’d rather chop them off than listen to 7 billion people’s brains. Especially not his pa’s head, he already knew what swirled in there. Guilt, doubt, sadness, anger, he was a trapped man with no hope of ever seeing freedom again. Keith could already see his thoughts sweep across his face, every morning pa sighed casting a longing looking out the kitchen window. Every evening he took a quick smoke at ten past midnight, watching with baited breath that maybe, just maybe, she’ll return home. And whenever he chewed his thumbnail as he tried to contain his frustration as he cooked another batch of French fries. Yes, his pa was a trapped man who himself had to cage up his feelings, wants and dreams, just because of him. 

Keith raised his now clawed fingers and dug them into the thin flesh of his upright ears. It stung and he could feel his eyes watering, but he didn’t relinquish his grip. They deserved to be punished. He deserved to be punished.

Finally, after a few minutes his ears began to turn numb to the pain and he let them go.

______

The next morning Keith was shaken awake by uncle. He looked refreshed, his chubby cheeks no longer looked flushed with worry and his stubble appeared to have been tamed back to a slight shadow.

‘Morning sleeping beauty.’ He shook him some more, ‘Come on, I need yah help with that computer wizardry of yours.’

‘You mean Microsoft?’

‘Yeah, that guy!’

Keith groaned as he stumbled out of bed, making sure to not stub his toe on the easel just next to it. His last painting sat atop, eagerly waiting to be finished. He had started a painting that he didn’t have the heart to complete. The rough outlines of a wolf stared back at him from the canvas, begging to be noticed.

He followed his uncle down the stairs and into the kitchen where they passed his pa. He was standing at the sink, both his hands in the tepid water as he idlily stared out towards the blue sky. The smell of burnt toast hit his nose hard, but pa appeared oblivious to his blackened breakfast. It seemed that pa hadn’t had as good a night’s sleep as his uncle.

They left pa to his staring and walked into Keith’s black room where the computer, possibly the only clue that the 21st century ever happened sat on his desk. The ancient machine had been fixed, reprogrammed, cleaned and gutted out more times than Keith could count. He was no computer scientist, but when needs must he would crack open any hard drive and try to solve the mystery. Sometimes all it took was his pa’s hammer.

It took them a good hour to write up fifty words, but eventually, just before the first car load of hungry customers arrived, they were able to print off three vacancy adverts. By that point pa had already fired up the old girl who had been insulted the previous day by the inspector. It might have been his sharp words or the fact that pa gave her an extra scrub, but she appeared to be much more eager to start the day.

Keith handed the adverts to his uncle and began his typical shift, though he felt that the next car could be the inspector again with a foreclosure sign at the ready, so he found it difficult to relax or even concentrate.

At around lunchtime he had only filled a page worth of doodles, mainly black, depressing spirals that looked like sweeping tornadoes sweeping across the white, frosty landscape of his page – one spiral appeared ominously close to his artistic interpretation of the inspector. He had given him big bulging eyes, a swollen nose and hair that seemed to have been struck by lightning, also some stink lines and flies, just for good measure. Not long after some trucker arrived, having requested a massive order that even uncle couldn’t quite believe, pa arrived back from town having gone out to post the ads. 

‘Spoke to old Judy.’ He said as he walked into the proper kitchen.

Keith turned around in his wheelie chair to listen to the drop of gossip. The Kogane’s weren’t gossipers, nor were they very sociable, so news from the town was reduced to what uncle or pa saw whenever they drove through town to collect supplies.

‘Oh yeah, how is she doing these days?’ asked uncle, his focus never leaving the burgers cooking on the pan, the oil spitting and stinging his skin, but he never flinched.

‘Not good, she’s selling up shop and moving to Houston where her son lives, apparently business has dried up since the garrison enforced their curfew for the cadets.’

The drive-thru had been hit by the curfew too, but not as badly, the diner didn’t open till lunchtime but used to stay open real late so as to catch those driving on the old route 66. For a time she had been doing really well for herself, tourism was flying through the old town, enough so that she gave her place a fresh coat of petal pink paint. Nowadays, the paint was scorched and chipped from the desert sun and cadets weren’t going to sneak out to some empty diner – just wasn’t worth the risk. Keith felt bad that they were still able to keep their business and home afloat whilst she was forced to sell up and move. But, it was just another symptom to the garrison having been moved so close to town. They weren’t sympathetic to the residents here and certainly not its struggling businesses – they viewed everyone with suspicion and a steely determination to keep the segregation tightly enforced. They had no loyalty to them or the town.

‘Ah shit, poor lady. She was always a kind one, always offered me a muffin for my troubles.’

‘What about the ad pa?’

Pa jolted, surprised that he had been listening at all.

‘Oh she said she will still post it, apparently a young man had come to her a few days ago looking for work. A bit suspicious if you ask me.’

‘Why is that suspicious?’ he asked, had he missed something, was it so strange to ask a person for work these days?

‘He was from the garrison, he was wearing their fatigues.’

Before Keith could ask any further questions a car honked its horn outside of the delivery hatch.

‘Ah shit, can you pass this over to onion breath? He wanted six bags of onion rings!’ said uncle, hurriedly packing the last set of fried onions in the greasy paper bag.

Pa nodded and dashed to the delivery hatch.

______

On Tuesday they received their first application.

The guy’s name was Robert and his letter stank of weed, enough so to make Keith’s sensitive nose itch and his head feel woozy. Pa suggested to call him in for a trial run, maybe an interview, but uncle just took his letter and dumped it in the trash.

‘No inspector will want some guy high on weed working a deep fat fryer.’

It wasn’t until Friday that they received another letter, this time not stinking of weed. The man’s name was Takashi Shirogane. Keith didn’t know much else about him except that he didn’t smell bad or made his head swim.

‘I’ll phone him, see if he can drop by tomorrow morning,’ grunted pa.

The next morning he found himself locked away in his office already taking orders down by 7:30 a.m. The possible new guy, Takashi, had yet to arrive for his interview. Though, he still had five more minutes before he could be classified as late. Although that probably wouldn’t hurt his chances, he was after all the only other applicant, he wouldn’t be surprised if pa handed him an apron as soon as he got here – maybe even get him to make a batch of deep fried burritos.

Suddenly, the speakers came to life with deep voice that sounded nervous but still hopeful. It wasn’t the usual tone of their demanding customers, they rarely remembered their polite manners when it came to talking to a faceless nobody (maybe his claws could jog their memories?)

‘Ah, er, hello? I-I’m here for the interview.’

Keith snorted into his hot coco, he hadn’t expected him to make his entrance this way, does this Takashi guy realise that they had a front door?

‘Hi, erm you can come round via the back door, just keep going on this track and park your car by the fence, you will have to cross the track again to our back door. I’ll let pa-I mean, I will let Mr Kogane know you’re here.’

‘Oh err thank you.’

The line went dead as Takashi went to go park his car.

‘Pa! He’s here! He’s coming round to the back door,’ he called out to him, not daring to step foot out of his office.

He heard pa swore from the other side of the door and racing into their section to let the poor guy in. He had sounded nervous, though he supposed having never applied for a job before he couldn’t really understand what he must be feeling.

Thankfully there were no more new customers so Keith could eavesdrop on pa and uncle’s interrogation on the mysterious Takashi. He crawled across the floor to the keyhole. His uncle was leaning against the sink, his arms crossed as he listened to pa and Takashi making small talk as they walked through their house to the kitchen.

‘Yes, pleasant weather, just like what we had yesterday, and last week,’ said pa, with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. Takashi stepped in after him, his face flushed a bright red as his attempt of small talk seeming to have fallen flat.

He looked like a Prince Charming incarnate with broad shoulders, tall stature and strong, finely toned arms and legs. He seemed like the kind of young man that could conquer the universe with just those cute dimples alone, not even breaking out into a sweat. He was that knight in shining armour who decapitated a dragon and swept the damsel in distress off her feet. Yeah, that was him. Heck, Keith wouldn’t be surprised if he got paid royalties from Walt Disney for just using his likeness.

Oh. Oh his heart was beating weirdly and he felt his hands become clammy with sweat. He really hoped this wasn’t the start of another fever.

Staring at him from the keyhole it was making his heart swoop and soar like some fancy fighter jet that all those dumb cadets drooled over. Shiro turned to look towards the door, his door, and it felt like he was staring right back at him. It was only for a few fleeting seconds but it was like he could somehow see him, acknowledging his existence in some way and not recoiling in horror.

The corner of his lips itched to break out into a stupid, goofy grin.

‘So Mr Shirogane is it?’ asked uncle. He walked across the kitchen and blocked Keith’s view of Takashi.

‘Ah yes, but please you can call me Shiro.’

It sounded like he had blushed in a cute, bashful way and he had just missed it! Argh! Uncle get out of the way!

‘Hmm, so Shiro, have you ever worked in a kitchen before?’ asked his pa.

‘I worked in a tea room back home. I helped my mother make cakes.’

‘Well I am not sure-‘ began pa but was interrupted by uncle.

‘Your hired! Do you think you can start by tomorrow morning, we open shop at 7 but you should get here for 6:45. I’ll even give yah the grand tour.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for making you all wait for this chapter. I write this fic largely at the weekends and the last two weeks have been very busy. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you all like this and please feed me with kudos, bookmarks or comments 
> 
> :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro and Keith meet for the first time...sort of?

Shiro awoke to the shrill cries of his alarm, its ringing pushing his remaining dreams out of his ears and henceforth forgotten in an instant. It was 4 a.m. and even in a desert the sun was missing from the sky, there were a few lonely constellations that remained visible in the halfway light between day and night. From his window Shiro could see Wolf Fang Ridge, the sharp mountains several miles to the east. The mountain range had long ago lost its wolf population but their teeth had remained. 

Shiro groaned as he slowly crawled out of his small bed. He had been dropped from the regular garrison drills and even after a week he had quickly fallen back into his old ways. Shiro was not a morning person, not by natural design anyway, for him being able to get up in the morning sharp and focused took years for him to master. Getting up before 8 a.m. was a skill. It was not until he was eighteen that he was introduced to the beauty of American coffee. It was something he had found quite startling when he had first arrived to the States, they (the Americans) were guzzling it down as if it were water from the Fountain of Youth. It wasn’t even like the coffee he’d had back home nor anything else he’d ever tasted before – so many concoctions of syrups, sugars, creams and milks that it was hard for him to even call the drink ‘coffee’. But, he was forever grateful to Matt for introducing him to Starbucks and its strange coffee like potions, they were the secret to his success. But looking about his small room it was difficult to see himself as successful, more like some college dropout. The room was littered with dirty laundry, empty ramen cups and newspapers. The smell of burnt plastic and mac and cheese from the night before hung like smog, the smell having only grown stronger as the half melted plastic container remained on the counter top serving as a monument of his non-existent cooking skills. 

Still, he was lucky to still be permitted to have a private room at the garrison, what with his circumstances. It was probably Iverson’s doing, he had always looked out for him, he understood what it was like to be an outsider. The man didn’t look it but he was a mother hen with his charges, most of them being men and women who were usually overlooked but still held rich banks of potential. It had been Iverson after all who had spotted Shiro during his first examination when he was just fourteen, a scrappy Japanese boy desperate to burn bright, brighter than any of his peers. Since then Iverson had taken him under his wing and promised his mum that he would be safe. 

He owed Iverson a great deal, luckily the man didn’t charge interest, still he should probably drop by his office and offer a peace offering. The man did like his hamburgers, maybe he could convince the Kogane’s to give him a discount? 

He limped out of the shelter of his covers and began his morning ritual, first he shaved, he developed stubble at a very slow pace and would probably struggle to achieve anything like Tex had, his cheeks and chin dappled in heavy stubble that never quite achieved a full beard status. Then after his shave he changed into some sweatpants and a tank top and began a rigorous drill of push ups, sit ups, boxing and then yoga to finish, the sweat he compiled over his workout was thoroughly washed away in the shower. 

He needed to keep up his strength, he couldn’t afford to drop his physical standards not unless he wanted the garrison board to find an excuse, no matter how small, to drop him from the programme. There were still whispers of missions further into space, though hushed down by the reminder of the last failed mission, two men and two women, lost on their approach into Kerberos atmosphere. Their bodies were never found. The garrison sent out a recovery vessel but they returned with nothing but shards of shrapnel. But that’s the way of space travel, it’s a dangerous profession with every recruit, even the cadets, must write a will before they even set foot onto base. 

But that was what Shiro was willing to risk, even if it meant slogging away in a greasy old Drive-Thru that still had asbestos in its walls and lead in its flaking paint, for it all went towards his dream of flying with the stars. 

He made sure to arrive at the Drive Thru not long after 6 a.m., looking at the building he could see that Tex Kogane had attempted to fix the glitchy sign that flashed 24/7, it showed a happy cactus eating a juicy burger who was also very happy to be eaten. Apparently, some passing motorist started shooting at all the signs along the long stretch of road, McDonalds, Burger King and the other chains had all been hit but the Kogane’s were the worst affected. The cactus no longer had eyes and smoke could still be seen puking out of the burgers smile. 

The bell jingled as he stepped through into the old dining area, not many people sat in here anymore, but sometimes an old resident who missed simpler days would come in and request a burger and a chat with Uncle. 

‘Good morning Shiro.’ 

Tex stepped through from the kitchen, his eyes just as heavy with burden as they were when Shiro had his short interview a week ago. The older man’s hair was growing more grey’s by the day and his eyes seemed to go shopping every night for new and heavier bags for them to wear in the morning. The man was clearly exhausted but by what Shiro hadn’t a clue nor dared try to pry into his boss’s private life, he knew from experience that the man had a 500 Magnum behind the singing fish board just behind the till and hence Shiro would rather not pry or otherwise look akin to bullet ridden cactus sign. 

‘Morning s-sir,’ Shiro stuttered. 

God damn it! He was a military trained professional, aeronaut pilot – he’s aced every single martial arts class since the age of five – he was not afraid of a forty something year old Texan with a gun, he was not scared of-

_BANG!_

Shiro may or may not have squeaked as a sudden and violent noise came from the floor above him. 

‘Damn it Keith,’ Tex grunted under his breath before fixing a steely glare towards Shiro, ‘you will sit in the dining room and wait until I say otherwise, do I make myself clear?’ 

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit! 

Realising that if he didn’t nod his head soon then he was putting himself more at risk of decapitation and so with a jittery nod he marched into the dining room, tail between his legs and his extra brownie points for arriving early burning under the intensity of Tex’s eyes. 

___________________

His ears were growing, day by day they were getting larger. Keith stared at his reflection, his skin was a flushed purple which highlighted his freckles scattered across the bridge of his nose, his eyes were still the same, violet, even when he was human they were a strange colour –with hindsight it was clear that they were the first warning that something was wrong, like when birds fly away before an earthquake, but like many first warnings his eyes were noted but largely ignored as a unique colouring. His black hair was tied back, it was long and largely untamed by scissors, he hadn’t even seen a hairdresser since he was four and the only cut his dad could do was a bowl cut, which Keith absolutely refused and well Uncle was blind and Keith didn’t want to be an experiment to his hairdressing skills.  
Everything else about him, human and Galra, were staying largely the same – except for his ears, they’d grown an extra centimetre in height. He couldn’t exactly recall when he first began measuring his ears and tail, but it helped in a sick sense to calm his bubbling anxiety. He was cataloguing and tracking himself, he was doing what any other scientist would do but at least for him it was in the comfort of his own home rather than a blinding white walled institute that stenches of chlorine. 

‘Oi kiddo! Hurry up in there, I need a piss!’ shouted Uncle from the other side of the bathroom door. 

‘Give me a minute!’ 

‘You’ve had twenty of them already in there,’ said Uncle, ‘I mean I get it, you’re a young, randy teenage boy, but you better not be doing anything to me sink – it cost me forty dollars!’ 

Keith blushed, ‘I’M NOT DOIN THAT!’ 

‘Oh? Well, it sounds like you doth protest too much.’ 

Even though there was a door between him and Uncle he knew that he had that annoying shit eating grin on his face, it was the same expression he wore whenever he beat pa at checkers or when he gave a saliva tampered burger to that annoying cadet kid, Liam was it? 

‘Anyway, hurry it up!’ and with that Uncle switched off the light, the switch being out in the hallway. Keith was plunged into darkness, the room had no window and hence no natural light. With his clawed hands he felt around for the basin of the sink and then clumsily finding his little notebook with all his measurements which he tucked into his back pocket. He did all of this with his eyes closed because he knew what greeted him in the dark, the reflection he would see, the eyes that glowed a murderous yellow. He could see perfectly well in the dark but in doing so he looked like a monster waiting in the shadows for its prey, he looked terrifying. 

Finally he found the lock and opened the door. 

‘Jeez took you long enough, I think my bladder might just burst,’ Uncle grunted, he patted Keith’s shoulders as he passed him, ‘don’t worry kid, I ain’t judging ya for what you do in your spare time, just keep it to ya own room kay?’ 

‘I WASN’T DOING ANYTHING!’ Keith shouted before slamming his bedroom door with a bang that probably shook the entire house…probably. 

‘I was young once as well, there’s no shame in it just as long as you clean up afterwards,’ Uncle cackled back. 

That was the only thing Keith was grateful for, apart from his strange fevers that leave him dripping out of every orifice, his dick, purple as it was though a lighter shade to the rest of his skin, remained human looking. Seeing that the alarm clock still glowed an angry red it was only just gone six, so he still had time to have breakfast and maybe squeeze in one of his commissions. Keith had never been so grateful for the internet and the wonders of anime, it served as a perfect escape from greasy orders, demanding garrison personnel and his overall isolation. 

He was working on about five commissions currently, there were two SasuNaru artworks, one of them on the hint towards R18 territory but the other was pure fluff. The other three were a mixture of OCs and SnK, his favourite piece was the request for an Erwin shot, topless and with a light sheen of sweat. He was very proud with his work and maybe a bit reluctant to share it with the requester, Erwin was his favourite character, he was a strong, capable leader with beautiful eyes. Yes, okay, he has a thing for broad shoulders and tall men. They just make his mouth water and occasionally, if he sees an especially tasty set of shoulders and pecs his fingers and claws itch with a desire to knead them like a cat would on a warm, woolly jumper on a cold winters night. 

But he couldn’t let his pa know, it would probably finish him off, an alien and gay son. Just as he began to look down that long spiral of guilt and shame which he’s built with his own thoughts over the many years was he rescued from the precipice by his pa’s own gruff voice. He noticed how with each day Keith’s ears grew the more his pa’s voice began to resemble sandpaper and gravel. 

‘Keith, keep it down would you? I got Shiro downstairs now, so I need you to come down quick before he can start his shift,’ said pa, knocking on his door more as an afterthought. 

‘Fine, give me five minutes and I’ll be down.’ Keith growled. 

There went his leisurely breakfast eating time outside his box, he thought to himself. Shiro had only been working at the Drive Thru for a week. The first day or two Keith desperately tried to grasp a glimpse of the mysterious man whose shoulders and biceps whispered of heavy workouts whilst his eyes told of a sharp mind and his lips hinted a gorgeous smile. However, it proved futile as every time Keith looked through a crack or a hole in the door he would at worse, be greeted by his Uncle’s backside. Keith had made a mental note to tell pa to get Uncle for his next birthday a size up of his jeans for the man was clearly going through a midlife spread and unfortunately for Keith, he was getting a close up. Keith loved his Uncle, but not enough to warrant that view again! In the end Keith gave up trying and chose to remain that stranger in the box office, a mystery for Shiro that he’d hopefully never solve. Besides, the two didn’t actually work together for Shiro had been working on packing and handing orders over to customers, whilst pa watched to make sure that the Meat Buster burger wasn’t handed over to the veggie in the hatchback – that was Karon, one of the few nice people from the garrison, she always gave a tip and asked how Keith was doing. So far during Shiro’s time they had yet to have any of the worst offending dipshits, though that was sure to come soon, he just hoped that pa was nearby to help Shiro get through his first trials of customer service. 

Keith quickly changed into a black sweatshirt and pants, carefully pushing the fluffy end of his tail through the makeshift hole at the back. Thankfully his tail hadn’t grown any longer. Dressed, he then grabbed his sketchbook and the Erwin commission before dashing out of the door and then sliding down the bannister, his tail helping him balance on the narrow beam. He landed gracefully on the manure brown carpet that had a faded pattern of interlocking vines, probably a free hand me down from 1966 or something. Keith lifted his arms above his head with a grin, before his alien features first made their appearance he was in the juniors gymnastics club where the coaches always marvelled at his perfect sense of balance. Another sign that had gone unnoticed. 

‘Ten out of ten,’ said Uncle as he followed behind him down the stairs at a much more sedate pace, ‘don’t forget to bend the knees.’ 

With a pat on the back Uncle brushed passed him towards the family kitchen, there he picked up his still warm black coffee and handed Keith his waffles and bacon which were dripping with maple syrup, before Keith could sneak away Uncle made sure to dump a banana in between his ears, ‘Fibre so that you don’t take so long on the toilet next time.’ 

That shit eating grin was back on his face again which when directed at him always made him question whether he could sink low enough to give a blind man a black eye. 

‘For the last time, I wasn’t doing anything!’ 

Before his Uncle could accuse him of anything more gross Keith made a break for the proper kitchen, the deep fat fryer was already bubbling away, spitting at anyone who came too close to her – she wasn’t very ladylike, but that was how Uncle liked her. Keith sealed himself away in his office, the room was dark and smelt slightly of damp but the smell of waffles was slowly pushing the damp into the corners so that it became just a hint. 

With the door locked from the inside Keith settled himself down at his desk and stuck into his breakfast, finally easing his rumbling stomach. Behind him, muffled by the doors and distance he could hear his pa walking Shiro through into the kitchen, it sounded like Shiro was receiving a second tour of the kitchen area. 

‘We’ll see how you do this morning,’ said pa. The older man’s footsteps receding in the direction of their home which was a door with PRIVATE nailed in place, when Shiro was hired pa had to cross out the line underneath that said ‘staff only’. 

It was around ten past seven before the first customer arrived in a rusty old hover scooter, the kid, was probably about fifteen, dropped by to pick up his breakfast of a burrito, fries and strawberry milkshake. He was their only customer for over an hour. The morning was slow for business with not even a cockroach looking for a crumb or a lick of salt. Still, it at least gave Keith some time with his Erwin commission, the characters eyes seemed to watch Keith’s pencils every movement, he watched each curved line like it was a rope out of his white, A4 sized prison. 

But it wasn’t until an hour later that Keith realised something was off for he hadn’t heard his Uncle cursing at being spat at by the fryer or that the onions had grown mouldy. It was too peaceful, too orderly, as if Uncle was on his best behaviour. Could it be the health inspector was back again?

Just as Keith began to mull over what could of happened in the kitchen a blue Subaru parked up by the mic. He groaned, from all his years manning the mic he had come to learn that some cars perfectly reflected the driver, the worst kind was the Subaru drivers, Keith would take the two warring biker gangs that turned up last summer over a Subaru, especially this one. The car had, now faded with a fine layer of dust, flames painted on and around the bumper, doors and rims whilst the back window was almost completely covered over by conspiracy theory stickers like SHOOT THE UFO and WTF NASA, it was the sticker equivalent of shouting at the world. 

‘Hey! Hello? Hi! Hey! Hey!’ 

Keith gritted his teeth and prayed to whatever deity above or below that they could send this moron far away from him, preferably under a heavy rock with only snakes for company.  
Forcing himself by literally digging his claws into his skin he managed to push out a halfway decent chipper greeting. 

‘Good morning sir, what can I get you today?’ 

‘Asides from you tonight for dinner?’ said the Subaru driver. The man was the same age as his Uncle and maybe once upon a time he considered himself a Casanova when such pick up lines might have won him a date and a trip to second base (and Keith didn’t mean a tour around the garrison either). The man had a bald spot a mile wide, his blonde hair now dying back as if he washed it with weed killer instead of shampoo. His figure was hard to determine from the grainy CCTV footage but from what Keith could pick out the man was enjoying retirement and the sedentary lifestyle it offered. 

‘We have a special discount today on our deep fried pizza rolls, buy two bags and get the third free,’ said Keith in a now strained voice, literally biting his tongue just to stop him from finishing that sentence with an expletive. 

‘Aww don’t be like that sweet cheeks, okay, get me six bags of pizza rolls, two Meat Busters, three large fries, a large coke and your number. Thanks baby doll!’ 

Before Keith could rebuff him the man had already driven off and around the corner to the other side of the Drive Thru where he’d probably chat up a cactus if he could. 

Keith hated that dipshit and not just for the nicknames he’d chosen for him but just the sheer entitlement that oozed like grease out of his pores. He was some old pilot and when he wasn’t trying every pick up line in the dating advice book, circa 1934, he’d rant on and on about the aliens in human suits or some new AK47 that he’d just bought for his arsenal. It was on these rare occasions that Keith was actually happy to be locked away from the world for it meant that he never had to meet people like him face to face.  
Still the man deserved some of Uncle’s saliva to add to the special sauce in those deep fried pizza rolls. Keith typed out the long order and made sure to add with an asterisk at the bottom the special request for saliva, and then sent it on its way to Uncle. 

With that done Keith dove back into his Erwin commission, picking up the 2B lead he began working on the shading around Erwin’s collar bones and in an instant he was sucked back into his own little world where it was just him and Erwin. 

Suddenly there was a tentative knock that came from the door. 

‘Er, hi, erm Keith?’ it was Shiro! And though his voice was laced with nerves and the hint of a stutter his voice still sent shivers down Keith’s spine, especially when he said his name. In seconds his mind had already stored away that sweet voice to his audio archive, something to maybe add a little spice to his daydreams. 

‘Yeah Shiro, do you need anything?’ the ‘do you want me’ left unspoken but again only just.

‘Err well, I mean, I just noticed that there was something extra on the order? Something about a saliva roll?’ 

Oh. Well, that explained why the kitchen had been so quiet, Shiro had been moved from packing to making the orders, it wasn’t fine cuisine cooking after all so it made sense to move him onto other tasks, the cooking mostly consisted of dumping anything edible into the fat fryer or microwaving the pizza rolls. The only culinary skill was preparing the secret sauce, which only Uncle was allowed to do. 

‘Yeah, so?’ said Keith, his imaginary hackles rising with building up tension. Keith wasn’t used to being questioned in his job, wasn’t even used to talking to people outside his family, other than customers, so his social skills were probably not up to standard. 

‘That’s unsanitary! I don't think I can do that!’ said Shiro. The guy was from the garrison so of course he was going to be uptight about rules, it was a given with that lot. 

‘Look, the guy in that blue Subaru is a complete creep, just ask my Uncle, we’ve told him plenty of times that he can’t just say whatever he likes to me,’ there was a long, stagnant pause, it felt awkward without basic eye contact, he couldn’t read Shiro’s expressions so he couldn’t see if he was sympathetic, conflicted or just constipated. The silence dragged on for more seconds and Keith knew that it wouldn’t be long until they got the beeping horn from said Subaru driver. 

‘You know what, just forget it, okay,’ said Keith, the fight easing out of his knuckles and shoulders. 

‘Okay Keith,’ was the only response he got from Shiro. 

And back into silence they went, their first conversation crashing to earth like a lead balloon. Strangely Keith’s heart, which had been beating like crazy throughout the short exchange also plummeted to the pit of his stomach. 

He returned back to Erwin but this time not as enthusiastic to meet the man’s gaze, his eyes holding a tint of judgement for his poor social skills. 

Customers slowly trickled by and drove away, sating their appetites for salt and grease, business was slow but at least they still had business. Pa had driven through the town last week in order to get basic supplies, and the amount of foreclosure signs that had popped up like weeds since last spring had scared him. The town was dying, fifty years ago there were fifteen motels, now there were only two and neither of them had a hint of luxury like they once had, just yellow, crusty sheets and rooms that had seen more crimes than sleepers. The local high school had closed down five years ago with its lasts students graduating to either McDonalds or Juvenile Detention Centres. There were still those who desperately clung to the old life, when Route 66 still went through the town and brought tourists from far and wide, but it was a life that was slowly going extinct. 

Keith didn’t know what would happen when they would have to close the Drive Thru, he knew that pa had contingency plans, after all he had been in the military years ago and was a volunteer fireman, he was trained to expect disasters, natural or manmade. But Keith understood that it wasn’t a matter of if the Drive Thru would close but when. It was inevitable, as more and more people ditched the town for the cities, it was either that or be buried alive by the desert sands. 

Lunch time crawled by reluctantly with a few more drivers with bigger appetites than an elephant’s and by two o’clock pa knocked on his door with an offering of a cheese and tomato sandwich and a strawberry milkshake. 

‘How are you doing kiddo?’ he asked as he watched Keith guzzle down his milkshake with vigour, ‘I heard that you had a tough morning,’ he pushed with a grunt and Keith knew instinctively what he was referring to. 

‘He’s a shit head but I can handle him,’ Keith shrugged making sure to avoid mentioning the saliva note, after all, pa didn’t approve. 

‘Shiro told me about the note.’ 

‘I –' 

‘Keith, we’ve talked about this, if the customer or the health inspector were to ever find out about this we’ll be closed for good or worse, you could be discovered!’ pa whispered harshly, his face was wrinkled with deep concern, his eyes enlarged with frantic worry as his mind played out all those scenarios that had been their collective nightmares for years. The fear and paranoia having since worsened by the recent close call that was the health inspector, it was eating them alive. It didn’t help that just behind that closed door was probably Shiro having his lunch break, a man that could potentially bring Keith’s life crashing down with just a look. 

‘I know’ Keith started ‘but it’s the only way I can fight back pa! I can’t tell him to shove off, I can’t ban him from here and I can’t even punch him in the face! I can’t do anything here, not even spit in the guy’s sandwich!’ 

Keith could feel his claws beginning to elongate as he clenched his fists, his palms starting to sting as their sharp points began to pierce the skin. The tips of his ears tingled as his fingers started to itch irritably, subconsciously he reached his left hand to the tip of his ear. But pa was faster and so grabbed Keith by the wrist in a strong hold reserved for pulling people out from under collapsed buildings.  
‘Don’t pinch them.’ Pa growled. 

Keith struggled in his pa’s grip, ‘Let go of me!’ 

Reluctantly, pa let him go and Keith dropped his arm back to his side though his ear still itched. 

‘Next time just leave a note for me, I’ll sort him out, you don’t have to fight every battle Keith,’ said pa, his hand reaching out to cup Keith’s flushed purple cheeks. 

‘With all due respects pa, I should be able to fight my own battles.’ 

Pa nodded, ‘Yes, but not alone. You’re not alone Keith.’ 

Pa patted Keith on the shoulder and retreated back out into the kitchen leaving Keith back in the dark office which some days felt like a protective womb whilst others, like today, it felt like a punishment. The pent up frustration and anger swept through the muscles of his arms and pulled them like strings on a puppet, his arms lashed out at his desk and his empty milkshake carton and his drawings flew to the floor. His pencils scattered to the four corners of the room, the lead inside probably snapping in half like a broken bone. The debris of his anger was minimal though, if he was back at the cabin in the canyon with his rifle and cans then there would be a mountain of dead Cola bottles and beer cans. 

Keith slumped back down into his desk chair with his hands already reaching for his ears. The claws bit down into the thin, tender flesh and the satisfying burn soon followed. 

__________________________  
_A little while ago...(Shiro POV)_

Shiro stood staring at a small, receipt sized piece of paper. It was the customer’s order that Keith had sent through. Everything read normal, if a touch on the gastronomical side, but then again that was typical in the States, as Shiro had quickly learned since moving here many years ago. No, it wasn’t the amount of fries requested but rather the odd special request marked by an asterisk at the bottom of the slip of paper. 

Customer requests a big, juicy saliva sandwich. 

What could Keith possibly mean by this? 

The ghost like presence of Keith was a strange thing to work with, it felt like he was more of a computer with a name rather than a human with a face and mind. When Shiro first started, only days ago, he was warned to never step foot into that office. Tex had offered no explanation but the severe frown that he wore was all the clues Shiro needed that this topic was off limits. But curiosity was innate in Shiro, it was why he was here, half way around the world from home, because he had a burning mind, fuelled by curiosity and so he couldn’t help himself when he found his eyes slowly drifting to that door at the end of the kitchen. He knew he shouldn’t approach that door and he knew that he shouldn’t knock on that door, but when you get a strange note at the end of an order asking for a ‘big and juicy saliva sandwich’, well Shiro was confused. 

Maybe it was a mistake, a strange autocorrect error? But what could have Keith actually of meant by that note, a salmon sandwich? But the Drive Thru didn’t stock fish. Perhaps saliva was some kind of slang word in the food business, like SOS, which again had Shiro worried for Keith’s safety in that room – that was until Uncle reassured him that it just meant the customer wanted their sauce on the side. 

He had turned to ask Uncle but the man had left for a bathroom break and Tex was manning the till on the other side of the building, also Shiro was a little scared of the man, he was pretty sure the man probably had fifty guns on site – Shiro’s gun estimate increased with each day he worked at the Drive Thru. Tex looked at him only when necessary and for the most part spoke at him and not to him, it felt like at times Tex wanted him to turn into a robot. Shiro had tried to lighten the mood between them, he even tried to crack a joke with him, but nothing seemed to break that ice cold exterior.  
He was grateful though that he had Uncle. He had insisted he be called ‘Uncle’ rather than Mr. Kogane, ‘I’d rather not be lumped up with that grumpy arse!’ Uncle had remarked upon their first meeting, he had a coarse sense of humour that made Shiro blush and his ears turn as hot as the bubbling fat in the fryer; but he was patient with Shiro, he didn’t shout when Shiro dropped the spatula into the fat fryer for the sixth time, nor did he complain when Shiro asked many dumb questions. 

But, without Uncle around and his growing terror of Tex, Shiro had only one other person to ask and that was Keith. When Shiro went to knock on the door he had expected to hear a voice similar to Tex’s, gruff and impatient, being as the two were related. However, the voice that greeted him was smooth and deep, like melted dark chocolate with a pinch of sugar that sent tingles across his cheeks. Keith’s voice gave no inclination as to his age and obviously not his appearance, but Shiro imagined that he was probably like his dad, dark haired and sharp eyed. 

When he asked about the note he had hoped that Keith would just say that it was a joke or an odd acronym. But their brief conversation didn’t turn in that direction but rather something sadder and darker. He wished he had said something better to Keith, reassured him, joked with him or just apologised for what he had to go through – but all he did was say ‘okay’ – probably the dumbest word in the English language and he said it to Keith, someone who received almost daily harassment from customers. God, Shiro was an idiot when it came to human interaction. 

‘Everything okay Shiro?’ Tex had asked as he walked in, ‘I have a customer out here asking for his order, is it ready yet?’ 

And that was how he died, Tex Kogane’s sniper like glare, headshot and Shiro was dead before he even hit the floor. Tex had snatched the order out of Shiro’s outstretched hand and cursed under his breath; he then called for Uncle to help dish up the order before sending Shiro to sit at the countertop and pack it all away, the Drive Thru equivalent to the naughty corner. The order was completed in less than five minutes, mostly due to the ferocious speed that was Tex. Uncle and Shiro had kept quiet, they both knew better than to ask otherwise. 

With the order handed over to the customer Shiro was given a curt dismissal to an early lunch by Tex before he marched across the kitchen to Keith’s office. With Tex out of earshot Shiro crept over to Uncle and asked him about the customer that had caused such fury. 

Uncle grunted with distaste as he thought upon the Subaru driver, ‘That man, yeah he likes to swing by every now and again. He once kept Keith on the mic for an hour as he just wouldn’t take no for an answer.’ Uncle shook his head at the memory, a deep frown marring the usually cheerful face, ‘Eventually Keith managed to get him to hang up, I don’t know what he said to make him do that but whatever he said it seemed to work – but now we have a problem in that the guy keeps coming back.’ 

‘What do you think Keith said to him?’ Shiro asked.

Uncle sighed, his arms crossed, his pudgy hip leaning against the grill, ‘I don’t know but I think Keith got stuck in a corner with that guy and just did whatever he could to get out. I’m just grateful that they’ll never meet because if they did, well let’s just say Keith has some mighty claws on him that’s for sure.’ 

At that moment voices began to rise from the office behind them. It sounded like a hushed argument where angry words were desperate to be unleashed Shiro knew he shouldn’t eavesdrop, his mum had taught him better than that and if she saw him now she would have clipped him around the ears. But, in Shiro’s defence, he hadn’t actively chosen to eavesdrop; Tex Kogane and Keith were not quiet, angry whisperers – though he gave them credit for trying. 

Uncle sighed, ‘I’m heading out back for a few, why don’t you sit here and have your lunch, I doubt anyone else will be dropping by.’ 

‘Sure thing Uncle,’ said Shiro. Uncle nodded and patted Shiro’s shoulder before waddling out through door that said ‘PRIVATE’ which Shiro understood led to the Kogane’s private home. 

Ignoring the arguing in the office behind him Shiro went about preparing his lunch in the microwave and then went to sit on the far side of the kitchen munching away on his microwaved ramen and scrolling through his media feed. Suddenly, Tex came out of the office, his face appeared more wrinkled with worry than it was that morning. From what little the opened door revealed the room behind appeared to be dark with only a computer screen serving as its only light. He couldn’t see Keith but he knew he was in there, the guy never left his station and, up until today, Shiro had never heard his voice. 

Tex looked to Shiro and nodded his head, ‘If you get another note like that again, just ignore it.’ 

‘Err yes sir,’ said Shiro. 

With that said Tex left Shiro alone in the kitchen, the room falling silent with just the sound of the fat hissing and bubbling away likes a witches cauldron. 

Shiro knew he should apologise to Keith, and he knew how this must have all looked to Keith; the new guy ratting out Keith to his dad. It wasn’t fair that Keith had to deal with customers like that whilst Shiro worked away in the kitchen, so far protected from the hardships of customer service. 

Shiro sighed and brick by brick he built up what courage he had left which hadn’t fled for the hills under Tex’s scrutiny; soon enough he was ready to knock on that door a second time that day. Shiro took a quick gulp of his coffee and then approached the door, but then his foot slipped on the tile floor just in front of Keith’s office. Shiro looked down expecting to see a puddle of some liquid but instead there was Commander Erwin, topless, gazing up at him with a hooded, heated glare. 

‘Oh damnit, where have you gone,’ said a familiar voice from behind the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi
> 
> I’m sorry this has taken so long but I hope you can all appreciate the super long chapter – I have been working on this for at least four months. 
> 
> The last two months of 2019 were probably the darkest in regards to my mental health – I was running low on energy towards the end of October and caught a cold, I had booked a week off from work and was hoping to recharge my batteries but instead I spent almost half my time at the hospital as my nan, who was 94 and had dementia, was sent to AE. We thought that my nan could fight off the infection, she was always a fighter, but unfortunately that wasn’t the case and my nan died at the beginning of November. Her death really hit my family and I hard, everything was very fraught for weeks as my mum arranged her funeral – of course throw in some work drama and family politics and well…things were not great. 
> 
> Things are getting better though and I’ve had quite a bit of time off for Christmas which has meant I could recharge and spend more time with my family and friends. I miss my nan still but in a way I am also happy that she’s finally been freed from dementia, it’s a horrible illness that robs you of your loved ones. In May we are driving up to the Scottish Highlands where my family have a small plot at a tiny chapel – my grandad is already there so she won’t be lonely. 
> 
> I just want to thank you all for your kind words in your comments as well as leaving kudos, each and every one of you has kept me going with this fic. 
> 
> Anyway, I plan to upload the next chapter for sometime in February, maybe Valentines Day, I can’t say that the chapter will be the same length as this one but who knows. I also have a surprise for you all but more news on that will come later 😊 
> 
> If you are interested you can follow me on Twitter at: @FanficSheith  
(* All mistakes and errors in this chapter are mine. I am also not an American but I have tried to avoid any Britishisms but I am not perfect).


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Attack on Titan nerds, Uncle the shipper and Tex the man with a broken heart.
> 
> Update 4/4/2020: Artwork created by the wonderful Aether-Staza, here's a link to their Twitter: https://twitter.com/aetherstaza?lang=en

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to say to everyone who left such lovely comments in my last chapter, thank you so much with all of my heart - I feel so lucky to be a part of such a loving and caring corner of fandom. This fic and all you readers have really helped me get out of a dark place :)  
I thought, as a thank you, I will post this chapter up a bit earlier than planned - I hope you all enjoy xxx :)

Keith knew he had left Erwin beside the clickety clackety old keyboard. It was a relic salvaged from the 90s and no longer pristine white as it had been but rather that yucky yellowing tinge that made Keith’s fingers tingle. But, Erwin had been there, waiting patiently for the return of Keith’s pencils, yet when Keith went to retrieve him he had vanished. The office was only small and there were little to no hiding places for even a scrap of paper to hide, except for maybe under the filing cabinet – which Keith had hurriedly lifted with a slight grunt. He was strong from his many years of training as well as aided with the steroids that were his alien genes, though he always looked slight and lithe. It needn’t have mattered though as Erwin was not there, only a dead cockroach that had Keith dropping the cabinet with a hurried bang. He hated cockroaches.

Wringing his fingers through his messy hair he looked desperately at each corner of the room, he even glanced up and around the ceiling in case Erwin had learnt how to fly, but no such luck. He was gone.

Keith’s ears flicked towards the door, he thought he heard someone outside but when no knock came he returned back to his hunt, this was not like the tracking he did in the shrublands by the cabin, at least the animals and birds left behind clues!

‘Oh damnit, where have you gone!’ he muttered to himself, or so he thought.

It had taken him weeks to get to this stage of Erwin’s commission. The requester was starting to get antsy about his progress and Keith would rather not have to return to her and explain that she would need to wait another month.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door.

‘Not now pa!’

‘H-hi Keith,’ stuttered Shiro from beyond the door.

Great, just who he needed.

‘Ah well, go talk to Uncle, I’m busy at the moment,’ Keith was really, really trying not to sound like an arsehole to the new guy but he also had little patience, especially when a very important commission had gone walkabouts.

‘No, no this isn’t about work – erm, I think I found something of yours…a drawing?’

Keith whirled around to the door and grasped the handle with his clawed hands, he undid the first bolt of the lock before realising what he was doing and stopped abruptly, his hand hovering over the last lock.

‘Oh, err, I err,’ Keith now stuttered.

‘Keith? Are you okay in there? Do you want me to come in?’ said Shiro, his voice laced with concern.

Keith’s heart was beating so loudly it was a surprise that Shiro couldn’t hear it, his skin was cold and shivered all over with the cooling sweat.

He had almost outed himself, he realised with a shudder.

He had almost revealed himself to Shiro, he had come one lock away from destroying his life. Keith shook his head and tried to shake away the terrifying images of loaded guns aimed at him, needles and faceless people in labsuits, all of them encroaching closer and closer, and Shiro had almost become their key to getting to him. With that thought Keith was certain that they were already outside, that somehow Shiro had discovered his identity and had called the cops, the army, the FBI and whoever else would believe him – that there was a purple alien boy serving people fries just off old route 66. Keith squinted through the peephole for good measure, his heart still hammering down on his vocal chords and preventing him from responding. God, where was the oxygen in this room?!

Looking out he saw no one other than Shiro. The man’s handsome face was crinkled with concern as he eyed the door that had just a few seconds ago almost opened for him. The kitchen was also deserted, thank God, Keith didn’t need another lecture from his pa.

But Keith couldn’t yet escape the feeling that he wasn’t alone, that he wasn’t safe. Keith turned away from the door and quickly went to check the CCTV live feed. He watched every corner of their building and beyond, and glared at a suspicious bush on screen 4 for a few seconds until finally deciding that no FBI agent was hiding behind it. It was all clear.

‘Keith?’

Oh yeah, Shiro was there still, shit the guy was probably worried that he’d had a fit or something.

‘Sorry Shiro, erm what did you say you had?’

‘I have a drawing of yours, I think it might have slipped underneath the door?’

‘Oh yes, that’s mine,’ Keith paused to catch his breath, he felt like he had just ran several marathons, ‘could you slip it under the door for me please?’

‘Yeah, sure,’ said Shiro, though his tone implied he was saddened by something – had he wanted to keep the picture?

Erwin slipped back under the door, his expression still the same with maybe an extra glint to his eyes, possibly just a grain of salt or maybe the beginnings of the next escape plan.

‘Thanks,’ said Keith, bending down to pick up the picture. He wiped his fingertips lightly over the paper so as not to smudge the lead, but luckily the picture had suffered no more than a smattering of dirt around the edges.

Keith was so wrapped up with his picture that he startled when a sudden cough came from the other side of the door. It seemed Shiro was still standing there.

‘Did you erm, did you draw that,’ he asked.

Keith looked down at the picture and for a moment he too asked himself the same thing. 

‘Yeah. I did.’ Keith paused again to bite his lip, should he tell him that it was a commission? Did Shiro even know much about fandom and how it operated, heck did he even know who Erwin was?

‘It’s really good, brilliant in fact! It looks just like him,’ gushed Shiro, ‘I wish I could draw like you, but all I can draw is a stick figure and even then they look disfigured.’

Keith couldn’t help but giggle, though he tried to muffle it into his sleeve.

‘Is he your favourite character?’ Shiro asked.

‘You know Erwin?’ Keith was a bit surprised at this, he hadn’t expected some bright, garrison drone to be interested in anything outside of marching and shooting things. Though Keith never went to high school he could still easily imagine Shiro being some jock, and didn’t jocks always laugh at geeks and nerds?

‘Of course! I’ve been reading the manga series for years, my mum always sends every copy to me straight from Japan’ Shiro gushed.

Keith looked through the peephole to judge his expression in case he was lying or teasing, but no, the man was genuine, wearing a pearly white grin and flushed cheeks.

‘I-I wouldn’t have thought that you’d have time to read the manga,’ Keith confessed, after all, he himself barely had time nowadays, what with his commissions and work.

‘I don’t really, but I try to make time if I can, even if it means reading them in the shower!’

Suddenly an image of Shiro, naked and standing in a shower cubicle clicked inside his brain. Keith’s internal eyes roved over the man’s body, his well defined abs, his strong biceps and thighs and of course, those deliciously wide shoulders. But, he didn’t dare of thinking further south than the man’s belly button, otherwise he’d end up in an embarrassing predicament with nowhere comfortable to relieve himself.

‘Oh uh really? How do you manage that!’

‘Well, it’s a little hard to explain.’

Jesus, Keith wished Shiro hadn’t said the word hard there.

‘But,’ Shiro continued, ‘a friend of mine, he’s really brainy with robotics and anything that has a motor, I’m pretty sure he’d marry his sex doll if it was legal, which oh uh, for the record I don’t have one, ah erm.’

Keith snorted, so loud that he was sure Shiro thought he had a pet pig in with him, before collapsing into a fit of giggles, his hands desperately trying to cover his mouth whilst tears began to seep from the corners of his eyes.

‘Uh Keith, are you okay?’

‘Sorry, you were saying how you definitely don’t own a sex robot who watches you shower,’ said Keith.

‘Keith!’ Shiro whined before also cracking under the pressure of the pent up giggles inside him. Keith took a glimpse again through the peephole and yep, the guy looked absolutely adorable giggling. 

‘I walked into that one, didn’t I?’ said Shiro after finally catching his breath.

‘Yeah, you sort of did, sorry,’ Keith shrugged, ‘but okay, what’s the truth, or did I get it right?’

‘Hahaha, no…well actually, maybe? See, my friend, he’s smart, like really smart and anyway he gave me this robotic arm, its voice controlled and I tell it to turn the page, I think he meant for it to be a back scratch but now I’m worried where he got that arm from.’

‘Maybe your friend has a thing for one armed sex dolls?’

Shiro laughed again and it made Keith’s heart shudder with each lyrical wave that penetrated through the still locked door.

‘So, you also like Erwin?’ asked Shiro.

‘Yeah, he’s one of my favourite characters.’

‘I like Erwin too, he’s a strong leader who has to make really tough decisions, I don’t think I could ever do anything like him – fighting titans, military strategist, the man is just awesome!’ Shiro gushed, ‘but the other characters are good too, like Levi, Hange, Mikasa and Armin.’

‘I like them all too,’ Keith admitted, ‘with most shows or books I can just have about three favourite characters and that’s it, but with Attack on Titan, I like them all.’

The two continued to gush over storylines, characters and even tentatively into fandom as well. Shiro was an avid collector of manga and merchandise, though he admitted sadly that most of his collection was back home in Japan in his old bedroom which he hadn’t slept in since he was fourteen. It took a while into their conversation for Keith to finally reveal that he drew fanart and accepted commissions, this prompted from Shiro at least a hundred questions ranging from what tools does he use to whether he has an Insta or Twitter account. The answer being ‘yes’ with the reply from Shiro being ‘can I follow you?’ and obviously Keith said that he may (with an internal prayer of thanks that he had a separate NSFW account).

They must have spoken for a good hour, if not more. Keith was so wrapped up talking with Shiro that he hadn’t noticed the disembodied voice coming from the speakers behind him, at least not until a resounding honk of a truck shattered their warm and giddy bubble.

Keith quickly dove over to the mic and already began the usual apology, thankfully it was only Big Mel. Mel only dropped by once month on her truck deliveries that took her past Oasis all the way to California and she was one of the few nice regulars that did more than just grunt.

‘I thought your Uncle had finally carked it!’ she joked before ordering her two Meat Busters, fries and Oreo milkshake.

‘Not to worry Mel, he’s still in pretty good shape, he hasn’t lost anymore fingers yet,’ Keith replied. He was referring to the time when Uncle had cut off the tip of his middle finger when he was chopping up some side salads ready to go, they had to close the Drive Thru whilst they madly searched for the tip and then pa dashing him to ER to get it stitched back on.

Mel was their last customer after a long and quiet day, but for once Keith felt sad when they began to close up shop, normally he was zipping around the place in order to get his chores done and then dash upstairs to his room either to watch some Netflix, pluck a few strings on his guitar or draw some more art pieces. But tonight, all he wanted was to sit down on the floor and rest his oversized, fluffy ears by the door and listen to Shiro’s voice as he regaled over the recent episode of Haikyuu or lament with nostalgia the old days of Ghibli studios.

‘Night Keith, talk to you tomorrow?’ said Shiro having now packed up the kitchen area and set the dishwasher going.

‘Sure, have a good night Shiro,’ said Keith as he looked through the peephole. Shiro smiled, waved goodbye to Uncle and left the kitchen.

Keith released a deep breath, his shoulders sagging as the tension finally left his body. Still, he waited an extra ten minutes before gathering himself together and leaving the office.

Uncle was emptying the dishwasher and drying the knives and other bits and pieces on his old apron that had stains dating back through the generations. Keith was certain that the mustard brown stain in the top left hand corner dated back to early 1900 as no matter how much Keith and pa had scrubbed, bashed and begged, that stain refused to budge, it was as stubborn as the apron’s wearer.

‘Ahh young puppies you two,’ Uncle sighed as he dropped another knife into the draw, ‘you both are adorable.’

‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ Keith huffed.

‘You will, one day, you will,’ said Uncle as he looked toward Keith’s rough direction with another one of those mischievous smiles that twinkled with plans and schemes.

Keith shook his head, ‘whatever you say old timer.’ 

Retreating out of the kitchen and up the stairs to his room Keith could still hear Uncle singing out of tune to the radio that he had switched on.

_‘But I can’t help falling in love with you…’_

* * *

_Later that night…_

At midnight a man can be spotted sneaking out of the Kogane Drive Thru via the back door. The man has a flashlight, a coat, a flask of coffee and his rifle in case of coyotes, these four items are all he needs for his trek into the desert wasteland that lies behind the comatose town of Oasis. The man’s trek takes him almost an hour to complete at night as he navigates around wildlife with stingers and cacti with needles, if he did this journey during daylight it would only take him twenty minutes, however, he is a busy man, he’s a family man and so he must keep up appearances if not for him but for his son.

After the long hike he finally makes it around a craggy outcrop where he finds the old miners cabin. The building is tilted at a slant and is made of old wood that has since been battered by the winds and sand of the desert. The tin roof is still stable though, Tex having sealed up the leak last summer. The windows looked worse for wear but they’ll last hopefully another year, looking at the glass it looked more akin to tissue paper, fragile and unfit to the tough life a desert could force upon you. The cabin seemed to better suit as a serial killers hideout or where a shootout would take place in some old Western movie with maybe Butch Cassidy dancing around bullets as lawmen fell and horses whinnied in fright. If Tex had the interest or the time he’d probably unearth a bullet ridden skeleton underneath the sand.

Stepping onto the porch Tex took out the old key that was connected to a chain around his neck, he then bent down slightly and unlocked the front door, the lock clicked and the door slowly creaked open with a light push. Inside, the cabin was filled predominantly with radio equipment that piled high and almost touched the sagging beams that supported the roof. Flicking on a light the room brightened and revealed an old blackboard with a scattering of strange equations and coordinates. The walls that remained exposed and not hidden behind the towering radio equipment had newspaper reports and articles pinned in place, on closer inspection the articles all reported the same thing, aliens. Particularly, sightings of aliens. The reports came from far and wide, mostly from the States but a few were reports from the UK, Germany and even Malaysia.

There was a kitchenette in the far corner that housed a microwave, mini fridge and a coffee maker that had since broken but Tex had yet to fix, he was a busy man after all. There was also one other door that led to the only bedroom on the property, inside the room was a makeshift bed with a double mattress lying flat on the floor and a couple of blankets.

The cabin often served as a base for Keith whilst he suffered through a week long fever that had the boy shivering and crying into his pillows. It was here where his cries were so loud that even coyotes knew to stay away. In that room every three or four months when Keith was having an especially hard time he would bring him here where he would curl up on the mattress and make something almost akin to a nest, as if the boy was ready to give birth to a litter of kittens. Keith would gather up clothes, towels, cushions and blankets, some of which that didn’t even belong to him; there was a jumper and a scarf that belonged to Uncle and there was a denim jacket and a shirt that had been Tex’s. Tex knew better than to fight Keith on this though having once tried to regain his jacket, Keith in his frenzied state, lashed out at him with his claws, thankfully Tex didn’t bleed easily. Since then he hadn’t tried to take back his jacket.

After a few days wrapped in all sorts of materials and fabrics the room would smell pungently like, well, Keith. It was very difficult for a human nose to explain, maybe if Tex were a dog then he might be able to understand it better, but the room smelt of his boy. It wasn’t a disgusting smell, unlike the times when Keith was still being potty trained and created the many accidents that stunk out their small apartment; no, the only thing he could think of that best incapsulated the smell was one word, home. The room smelt of home, or maybe what home should smell like (which nowhere had Tex ever lived before smelt like), there was no smell of motor oil or grease, but instead a smell that greeted you and made you feel safe, warm and welcome.

If Krolia were here then maybe she could help him understand, help him understand their boy. But that was why he was here, to call her back to this little blue planet she had visited almost eighteen years ago. Tex had started this project back when they had first arrived in Oasis, he had gone hiking one day with Keith and had come across the old abandoned miners cabin, after making some innocent inquiries with the locals he discovered that it was abandoned. Since then Tex called it his own. At first the cabin became a place of refuge on weekends and where Keith could run outside and play , he could be a normal child here and that’s what he did. Keith explored the entrances to old gold mines, poked and prodded at insects and howled along with the coyotes that lived deeper in the canyon. But, it was also here where Tex taught him how to fight, every Sunday morning they would go around the back of the cabin, line up some Cola bottles and practice shooting with pistols, shotguns and rifles. By aged ten Keith was a prodigy with both guns as well as knives. Tex taught his boy everything he learnt from his time in the military, he showed him how to create an IED out of simple materials, he took him camping and had him learn survival tactics like where to find water, how to make a bow and arrow and how to build a shelter.

All of this was in preparation for what felt like the inevitable, though he always kept trying, Krolia was not going to come back – she had either been captured or killed. His best hope in order to keep his boy alive was to teach him how to survive without him or Uncle. He knew that he was condemning his son into a hermits life. The dread and guilt was a constant weight on his shoulders, most fathers dreamed for their sons to grow up happy, become lawyers, doctors and teachers, marry and have a family of their own. Fathers didn’t train their sons on how to set up booby traps or break human bone, those fathers didn’t raise their sons to become soldiers or to fear the world around them. But what choice did Tex have? It was either that or leave Keith defenceless and at the mercy of the garrison, the government or whatever other agency that wished to capture and study new specimens; they wouldn’t see his boy as human or even a living, cognitive being, but rather something new for science to poke and prod at.

Tex knew Keith deserved better than that which was why he had started putting together a radio that could reach outer space and maybe, just maybe, Krolia’s ears. The project had started off as something he worked on once a week, a task he squeezed in around his normal life. But then the fevers started where Keith cried and howled as if he were in pain. The boy would beg and beg until tears were streaming down his face, but when Tex asked what he needed Keith would just shake his head. The poor kid didn’t know what was wrong with him or what he needed. When those fevers started it set off a flurry in Tex to complete the radio, Krolia would know what to do, she would know. But no reply ever came, just radio silence, yet he kept trying. And, with each year Keith got a little older Tex would increase his nightly visits to the cabin to the point that he now came every night, his voice raspy from constantly sending out messages.

Tonight would be no different, Tex would stay here, drink his coffee and fire out recordings to the many corners of the galaxy and beyond. He didn’t sleep much anymore, maybe about two hours if he’s lucky, but he was running on survival mode just like he did in his military days when he was out on campaigns.

This was all for Keith though, Tex thought to himself, it was all for him.

Sitting down at his desk he began to fiddle with the buttons and switches until the sound of static came live through the feed. There was always a sinking feeling in his stomach whenever he began his broadcasts; space was infinite and the sound of it coming through to him made it feel like a monster, did the beast allow these messages through or did it eat them up and spew them back out as empty atoms?

But he couldn’t allow himself to think so darkly, he had to have hope that something might get through.

‘Krolia, come back, Keith needs you.’

His messages used to be longer and once like reading a love letter aloud, but as the years went by and as Keith grew taller and sadder, his messages got shorter and shorter. He no longer shared updates on how Keith was doing in his studies or training, nor did he comment on life in a dust bowl or how humans finally landed on Mars. If there was one thing to bring Krolia back it would be Keith, at least that was what Tex hoped.

‘Please Krolia, come back for him.’

It would take all of Tex’s strength to not end his recording with a guttural cry or a sobbing gasp, at least tonight, but some nights his recordings would end with the sobs of a broken man. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A glimpse into Keith's past and how Uncle likes his hot chocolate.

Years ago, before life had turned purple, Keith had made a friend.

He couldn’t remember the girl’s name. She’d had long hair done up in braids with colourful beads dangling from the ends of them, they were so pretty Keith had thought. But not everyone in their class agreed, the other children tended to distance themselves from the outsiders, like Keith and the girl with the colourful braids. A few of the piggish looking boys, who happened to be the tallest in their class and hence the most popular, had decided to one day try and rip off the beads and present them to their crushes as strange proposal presents. Thinking back, Keith couldn’t help but see children as strange and demented beings, who sometimes could be cute or mean. 

The three boys had managed to corner the girl at lunchtime just around the back of the broken swing set, where a red tape was all that kept eager children away. But behind the swings was a little cluster of trees that everyone called, the Witches Wood. It was believed that a witch lived inside there in a small hut and a large cauldron filled with the toys and shoes from lost and forgotten schoolchildren. Keith didn’t believe in witches and didn’t play with the other children, and so the little wood made for a great place to hang around in for an hour a day and enjoy the dappled sunshine. Keith had been reading a comic book when he had heard a sudden commotion just outside his little woodland realm. At first, Keith hadn’t gone to see what was going on, after all, it was not like he cared about what his fellow classmates did, they hardly acknowledged him most of the time anyway. Keith wasn’t bullied necessarily, it was just that they knew he was different. He wore the same grubby clothes and was the only kid in the whole school who had a packed lunch. Keith was also the last to be picked up at the end of the school day as his pa worked all the overtime hours that God could give to a desperate, single father.

Keith was marked as different and now it appeared that the girl with the colourful braids had been marked the same.

Keith watched from the bushes as the boys circled around her, but she showed no fear and looked akin to the fierce warriors from old legends, her glare sharper than any knife his pa owned. Finally, one of the boys decided to take a chance and dived towards her, the boys hands clenched into fists (incorrectly Keith had noted, the boy had wrapped his fingers around his thumb). But the girl was ready for him, she turned sharply to face him and punched the head bully straight in the face, his nose bursting in a red explosion from the force of her hit. The bully fell on his ass, his hands shaking as they tried to stave off the flow of blood that was streaming down his face.

‘I’m telling!’ the leader cried and then bolted in the direction of the school, the other boys following after him.

Before she could also bolt away, Keith made a decision, to do something that he had never really done before, he reached out to the girl.

‘Quick, hide in here!’ Keith beckoned out from the bushes.

And, without hesitation she followed, for she clearly preferred to be in the company of a possible witch rather than the principal.

Keith led her a little away from the swing set to the den he had made out of fallen branches, dead leaves and sticks. It could easily be mistaken for a witches hut.

‘You can stay here if you like,’ he shrugged. The girl didn’t respond, possibly still wary of where she had been led to. Keith, who really couldn’t care much for if she stayed or not, sat down and continued where he left off with his comic book, taking out the dead leaf from between the pages.

The girl stood there for quite a while and kept looking back to the crime scene and then to Keith, her conscience clearly playing with her mind. But, after what felt like hours, when probably only being five minutes, she sat down tentatively next to him, her legs were crossed and her knees were bare, she had scuff marks on her ripped jeans and her plaid top was fraying at the edges. She didn’t comment on Keith’s mismatched socks or his tangled hair, but it felt like in some way they had a kinship forming, they were the same, tough but unprivileged.

She started reading the comic book over his shoulder and soon enough they had finished the story. Keith didn’t have anymore comic books to read aloud but instead they decided to write their own childish story with the same characters from the comic. Keith had some paper and pencils stashed away in his den, but his handwriting was terrible, and so with her pretty, loopy, linked up handwriting, a story was formed.

For the rest of lunch they created stories and laughed at their silly jokes about the villain’s butt or which superhero would fart the loudest.

When the school bell chimed for the end of play they walked out of the wood, not hand in hand of course because of cooties, but it was clear for everyone to see that a friendship had been made.

Their friendship lasted for just three days for on the fourth day, a Thursday, Keith’s ears and tail sprouted out of nowhere and henceforth triggered the beginning of Keith’s social isolation. The girl had been sitting next to him when his new appendages began to grow out of his skin, she had shrieked so loudly that the whole class had turned to look at them. Keith didn’t blame her for that, any other child (and probably most adults too) would have done the same.

Sometimes, when Keith felt down, he wondered what would have happened if he never turned alien, if maybe his mom was normal, would he have had that childhood best friend experience that makes one dream of lazy summer days creating friendship charms or playing tag out on the playground. Would that girl be his friend throughout elementary, middle or high school? Would they have continued to write up fanfictions, share the juicy details of their celebrity crushes or fight off more bullies, maybe even creating an anti-bully gang, becoming superheroes of the playground.

But Keith had learnt, many years ago, that if he kept playing the ‘What if?’ game it will only hurt him more, only make him angrier and his pa didn’t deserve that. And so, when his mind began to wander down towards that game, he put those thoughts and wishes in a cupboard. Sometimes, late at night, he would take them out and admire them for what they were, the lost dreams of the maybe.

But, as he got older, it was getting more and more harder for Keith to close that cupboard, especially now that Shiro was vying for the position of his second and only friend as well as also his first crush that wasn’t fictional.

They had only known each other for barely a few weeks and yet they spoke as if they had known one another for a lifetime. They had many common interests, from anime to astronomy but it felt like they could talk and joke about anything with each other, a feeling that Keith struggled to keep under strict control, lest he reveal his big secret. But, other than that, it felt like a dam had burst inside of him. He felt free, obviously not physically but emotionally for he finally had someone outside of his very small family to talk to. Not that Keith hated talking to his pa or Uncle, but there was a simple freedom in having a conversation with someone who was clueless to the fact that he was a fluffy eared purple alien boy with a tail, claws and eyes that glowed yellow in the dark, aka everyone’s idea of a nightmare.

However, this left him with a dilemma. Shiro had yet to start inviting him out to clubs or movies, or whatever young people did for fun in a desert. But, Keith knew it was inevitable that the time would come, and he needed to be ready with a bank full of handmade, prepared excuses. It would hurt them both and maybe even kill off this little green bud that was their friendship, but there was nothing else Keith could do other than to keep lying. He’d have thought it would be easier for him by now but if anything with each new lie that passed over his tongue the bitter flavour remained, it was like chewing dirt mixed with insecticide and calling it a chocolate sundae.

It was Tuesday evening and they were all packing up shop. Shiro had left early to attend a drill session down at the garrison and so it was just Keith, uncle and pa. Keith wiped down the worktops with a damp old rag, his long tail swishing from side to side as the radio blurted out an old Elvis track. Uncle was singing along whilst also taking care of the old girl. She was fragile in her old age but still demanded to be treated like a lady, and so Uncle would tend to her needs at the end of each shift. Pa had disappeared to check over stock levels, clipboard in hand he wouldn’t be back until dinner time.

Keith hadn’t yet told pa or Uncle about his friendship with Shiro but he suspected that Uncle already knew, he had very good hearing for man of his age.

He didn’t mind if Uncle knew though, he was a happy go lucky kind of guy when it came to anything outside of business. It was pa that Keith worried about most. He couldn’t help escape the feeling that if he continued on with this friendship with Shiro he would be betraying his pa’s trust. Pa was an extreme worrier, a man who had been trained to trust his paranoia. If Keith told him about Shiro then he would likely never see him again for pa would have him out the door before Shiro could say ‘tribunal’. And they needed Shiro, if they were to survive another inspection, something that hung above their necks like the imminent blade of a guillotine, they would need Shiro to pull Keith’s weight whilst he was tucked away out of sight.

Finishing up the last of his chores took another hour, which was filled with the same circular thoughts that would probably keep him up all night. Eventually, the kitchen was clean and ready for the next day. And so Uncle and Keith made the short commute back home.

They entered into the small living-room first. The room was decorated in an odd brown and mustard yellow wallpaper, a strange choice from the sixties and probably made under the influence of some kind of drug. The carpet was also brown and littered with darker patches from many spilt liquids over the years. Keith always made sure to avoid the large, liver sized stain by the bookcase, as it looked like something more akin to a murder scene than a puddle of spilt coffee that Uncle claimed it was. 

The room was always dark and smelt of salt and any food that was cooking in either of the two kitchens that it was sandwiched between. The scent eventually evolving over time into a strange greasy combination. Though the room lacked an interior designers flare or even a good vacuum cleaner, it made for the best place to snuggle up with his pa and Uncle after a long day. They would eat a dinner of greens (pa insisted on) and fried chicken (Uncle insisted on) at their small table in the kitchen before retiring to the tired looking couch, the leather was as brown as the room but covered in green plaid throws which made for excellent blankets to snuggle under. Keith would sit in the middle and rest his head on either pa or Uncle’s shoulders. It was on these evenings, in that special few hours before bedtime where Keith felt safe and content enough that he would purr like a lazy old cat and pa would stroke through the strands of his hair. This was probably not something anyone else his age still did, but then again Keith thought with the flick of his ear, he wasn’t normal was he.

It was gone eight o’clock and pa had yet to finish washing the dishes in the kitchen so Keith had chose to sit beside Uncle and finish off one of his concept sketches. This was a new commission for a follower’s own character, which was a female princess dragonling they created for their Dungeons and Dragon’s adventures. Whilst Keith sketched out rough lines the TV played out the same ER dramas that Uncle liked to listen to.

‘I hear that you seem to be getting along with our newest recruit,’ whispered Uncle, his eyes looking down in his rough direction, his blind gaze made it look like he was staring at Keith’s ears which made Keith instinctively fold them back to as close to his skull.

‘We’ve only talked a little while,’ Keith shrugged, ‘He helped me find one of my drawings a few weeks ago. He’s being friendly that’s all.’

Uncle nodded, but the corners of his mouth twitched upwards into a warm smile.

‘It’s good that you are making a friend,’ he said sagely, as if he had come to a great epiphany but wished not to make a fool of himself by speaking too soon.

‘We’re not friends,’ Keith argued back.

‘But you are getting…closer,’ Uncle patted the top of Keith’s head, his hand landing just between his large, purple ears, ‘but maybe wait a while before you tell your old man.’

Keith turned to look back into the kitchen where pa stood at the sink, the bubbly water submerging his rubber gloved hands. His pa wasn’t old, but he looked it what with the way he moved more slowly, like his joints needed to be oiled or he was running on an empty fuel tank down a deserted road.

‘I don’t think he’s ready yet to find out about your blossoming friendship, maybe once he has a good nights sleep you can tell him, but now is not the time.’

Keith couldn’t help but to agree. Every night, like clockwork, Keith would awaken to the sound of his pa softly closing the back door and walking into the desert.

‘How much sleep do you think he had last night?’

Uncle shook his head. 

‘He tells me nothing either, but I doubt it was more than two hours.’

Keith sighed and knocked his forehead into his Uncle’s shoulder, ‘What are we going to do with him.’

Uncle leant down and rested his plump, stubbled cheek atop of Keith’s head, the soft purple hair of Keith’s ears slightly tickling his nose.

‘Your father can be a stubborn man, but he cares for what you have to say. Talk to him.’

Keith shook his head, ‘I’ve tried, he just shuts me down.’

He knew that his pa saw him as a loveable burden, evidence of his cross galaxy fling with an alien and a problem that needed to be resolved. Sometimes, when pa looked at him he could see his eyes flicker up to his ears or downwards to his tail, and Keith saw the raw pain flash across his eyes, the guilt remaining strong even after all these years.

‘You have to keep trying,’ Uncle persisted.

‘I know, I know.’

And with that he got up off the couch and made his way into the kitchen. The radio was playing some old boy band song from the 1970s, the beat a mix of guitar, vocals and bongo drums. Keith leant against the door frame and watched his pa bob his head to the music. Keith didn’t recognise the song but his pa clearly did, or at least appreciated it. The music soon faded away and the radio presenter returned to the radio waves with his upbeat voice.

‘Hey, pa.’

Pa turned to him with foggy, fatigued eyes and bleary smile.

‘Hey kiddo, you alright?’

Keith smiled and nodded.

‘Yeah I’m good pa, do you need a hand?’

‘Nah it’s alright,’ he stopped mid sentence in order to yawn which made his eyes twinkle.

‘Come on pa, why don’t you go and sit down with Uncle? I’ll make you some coco.’ Keith tugged on his pa’s bicep and slowly pulled the stubborn, sleepy and six foot five tall man away from the sink. 

‘Keith, come on, its fine.’

‘No it’s not,’ muttered Keith and with a sharp tug he pulled pa into the living room. The man’s tiredness working against him as he slumped down onto the couch next to Uncle.

‘Keep him there won’t you?’ asked Keith to Uncle.

‘Not to worry, I will keep him here,’ said Uncle, putting a big, flabby arm around his pa’s shoulders, the weight of it working like a vice.

‘Seriously, I’m fine, honestly Keith your turning into a true mother hen!’ grumbled his pa, though he knew better than to try and get back up.

‘Stop your whining pa.’

Keith retreated back into the small kitchen and began making three cups of hot coco, three marshmallows in Uncle’s with whipped cream, two sugars in pa’s and just one marshmallow in Keith’s.

By the time Keith returned into the living room it was already too late, pa was asleep, his head now resting against Uncle’s shoulder and snoring away into the man’s flesh, drowning out the drama that was unfolding on NCIS. But Uncle didn’t seem to mind.

Keith carefully handed him his hot drink which Uncle took with a quiet and gracious nod.

‘Maybe next time kiddo,’ said Uncle. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
I hope you are all well and staying safe.
> 
> I'm sorry this has taken so long to get here, I have been working on this chapter since January and but I hit a brick wall for a little while (hence the delay). 
> 
> In other news, a few months ago I commissioned some art pieces from the wonderful Aether-Staza and these pieces have now been completed and will be released in each relevant chapter (two have already been added, one in Chapter 1 and the other in Chapter 5). I hope you enjoy these wonderful pieces as much as I did :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legends and myths abound in a dessert.

Whenever Keith was around Shiro, albeit with a locked door in between them, he felt the desperate urge to show off, to preen and flaunt himself, just to earn another one of those heart melting smiles or laughs. In some ways Keith was happy that the door blocked Shiro from seeing him, it saved Keith from the embarrassment. Most likely if he were to face him, and if he were a normal looking person, he’d probably walk head first into a trashcan or bite his tongue over the simplest of sentences. Being behind this door, it hurt sometimes, but it also protected him like a spiked shield and if he was careful he could ignore the sharp points and remain safe from harm.

It was another bright and early morning and Keith was eating his multicoloured cereal in his office. He’d been late getting up that morning having last night been plagued by more strange dreams, and so he had hit snooze on his alarm until pa had dragged him by his ankles out from under the covers. Needless to say he didn’t have time to dress or brush his hair and so here he sat in his box room, in his pyjamas which consisted of black boxer briefs and an oversized black t-shirt. The busted in air conditioning blasted an artic gale into the small box room, the air whistled around all four corners of the room making his skin rise in purple goose-pimples. Keith almost wished he had fur. 

Just as Keith started to wonder what alien fur would feel like a chipper knock came at the door.

‘Morning Keith!’ said Shiro joyfully.

It seemed Shiro was always in a happy mood in the mornings and greeted everyone the same, reserving a slight stutter when it came to pa. Keith supposed his pa may have that affect, after all the man towered above most people and didn’t smile easily, especially in recent years where the rare smiles he did show Keith appeared more like a grimace.

‘Morning Shiro, how was training yesterday?’ replied Keith, his heart pumping an extra beat against his ribs.

Shiro had left early yesterday afternoon for some training sessions, to be honest Keith rarely understood what these drills did for Shiro, all he could imagine was a group of people marching in line to the beat of a drum or maybe running some torturous obstacle courses.

‘It was alright,’ Shiro chuckled, ‘I somehow managed to stay on top of the leader board, so I am still the undefeated champion of the flight simulator killer level.’

‘Killer level?’ said Keith inquisitively.

He looked through the peep hole and saw Shiro nod and then blush sheepishly as if just remembering that Keith can’t see through doors. Little did he realise…

‘Yeah, the garrison created the toughest level, it’s pretty much unbeatable, so you are going to die on it eventually they just want to see how long you can survive for.’

‘Sounds brutal! What’s your longest time then, a minute?’ he asked cheekily, his tail swishing from side to side, a usual sign that he was having fun. Keith could afford to be cocky, he had a locked door to protect him from any scorn. 

‘Haha, very funny, but nope, my score is twenty minutes which equates to about three days survival time in game.’

Even from here Keith could see that smug grin, Shiro was a humble young man normally, but it was nice to hear him being proud of at least one of his accomplishments.

‘Impressive…so what kills you in the end?’

‘It’s usually some insane meteor shower or just depleted oxygen supply.’

‘What, no aliens? Not even a darlic?’ though he was partly joking, Keith found it hard to believe that the garrison wouldn’t prepare their future space explorers for possible violent aliens or at least what to do when a tentacled monster was racing towards you at the speed of sound.

‘Well we’ve had a few classes on alien bacteria, but that’s not really my field. I’m more of a flyer than a scientist.’

‘More like you’re the jock,’ Keith couldn’t help but giggle.

Shiro laughed at that. That was the nice thing about Shiro, Keith never felt like he was pushing the wrong buttons, unlike when he had to talk to most other humans through the microphone where he was nothing but gruff and blunt and at best, dull and polite, with Shiro it all felt so natural and their conversations flowed like a calm river somewhere in Yellow Stone or wherever there’s lots of beautiful rivers that Keith would never see.

‘I don’t think I’m a hardcore nerd, that would be my friend Matt, but maybe I am a bit of a geek too, so maybe I’m a gock?’

Keith wheezed and snorted as he erupted in a fit of giggles and laughs that resembled more of a hyena than human, his arms wrapped around his middle as he bent over trying to claw back some small pinch of dignity.

‘Oh shit, no-I-I didn’t mean – gah!’ said Shiro, his entire face now probably completely coated in a flushed pink, Keith would have looked through the peephole if he wasn’t so focused on trying to regain his breath. 

After a while they managed to calm down and Keith was just thankful that it was still too early for the main breakfast rush, otherwise both Shiro and Keith would be in trouble. But, for now, they had a moment of peace where they could talk random and just have fun. Keith liked these small moments of normalcy.

‘So, they don’t prepare you for meeting E.T or aliens eating their way out of your stomach?’

‘No Keith, there is no 101 Alien diplomacy class,’ chuckled Shiro, clearly he was still getting over his last bout of laughter.

‘Well that’s boring. Do none of you believe in aliens, I thought that was the point of the garrison, to meet people on Mars or whatever.’

Though he wrapped his question in a jokey, flippant way, Keith had to know, he really needed to know what Shiro believed.

Shiro paused.

Looking through the hole Keith could see him ponder like he was trying to squeeze his thoughts out of his brain, his smile had turned into a ponderous pout and his eyes were fixed up at the probably asbestos tiled ceiling that was stained in varying colours of unknown origins.

‘I mean maybe, I don’t know, I don’t think there’s any intelligent alien life forms outside our planet, at least not in this galaxy.’

Keith wasn’t sure on how to feel about that, ‘Oh…’ was all he could utter. Surely, he thought to himself, this was good news, that Shiro wasn’t being primed to hunt down aliens like him, that maybe the garrison wasn’t the stuff of his paranoid nightmares. That maybe they were just rocket scientists trying to reach Mars out of respectful scientific curiosity. But then where did that leave Keith? It left him exactly where he has always been, not on anyone’s radar. Still, it felt almost insulting to be told that your existence was mostly scoffed at rather than acknowledged as a possibility, no matter how remote.

‘Weird…’ muttered Keith.

‘You believe in aliens then?’ Shiro asked, a note of incredulity in his tone.

‘Yep, I do.’

And that was all Keith would say on the matter, no matter how much Shiro asked and prodded. The conversation swiftly moved onto Keith’s most recent commission, it was of a character Keith had never heard of before from some anime that Shiro was clearly an expert in and so to help with his drawing he asked Shiro all sorts of things, almost as if he was the character himself.

‘So what position does he play?’

‘Centre, I think, but they tend to rotate anyway, it’s part of the rules of the game.’

‘Does he have a favourite food?’

‘How does that help your picture?!’

‘Food is a very important indicator of personality Shiro,’ Keith replied, to which Shiro scoffed at and muttered something about his poor diet of Mac n’ Cheese and what could that possibly denote.

Cheesy but delicious, thought Keith, but he knew better than to reply to Shiro’s question – after all, he didn’t know that he was talking to a purple alien boy with excellent hearing thanks to his massive bat ears.

‘Alright puppies, get back to work, Shiro, get over here and help me scrub the back of the old girl would ya? God knows what this stuff is but it reeks to high heaven!’ called out Uncle.

Shiro groaned as quietly as he could, but nothing escaped a Kogane’s ears.

‘And stop your whinging!’ shouted Uncle, clearly delighting in making Shiro do all the gross tasks. Keith couldn’t help but giggle at Shiro’s expense.

‘Urgh, one day he will ask you and I get to laugh at you,’ said Shiro.

‘Nah, he loves me too much.’

And so work beckoned and the day dragged out just like the days before and probably the days ahead of them. After spending a good hour scraping off dried up oil, sauce and even mould from the back of the old girl Shiro spent the rest of the day cutting up vegetables and manning the microwave. They had all learnt not to trust him around the stove, not after he almost started a fire and it had only be pa’s quick, firefighter instincts that saved the Drive Thru from becoming a pile of ashes. Since then Shiro was relegated to cleaning and much simpler cooking tasks, though the deep fat fryer didn’t trust him as she continued to spit only at him.

‘She can sense your fear Shiro,’ Uncle had said after he tended to another one of her burns.

Keith meanwhile wrote down the same orders from the day before, ten meat buster burgers for the blue pick up truck, three deep fried burritos for the garrison lackey and so on. Uncle supervised Shiro in the kitchen and pa remained in the delivery hatch, silent as always. By lunchtime it was just the three of them sitting around Keith’s door. Shiro and Keith would gush over some episode they had both watched or Uncle would regale them with tales of his youth when he ran in a biker gang, Keith wasn’t sure how true that was. After all his Uncle always changed the origins of his blindness every time someone asked him. Keith’s favourite story had to be the one he told him when they had first arrived at the Drive Thru, his Uncle had sat him down with a milkshake and retold the story of when he had been travelling through the wilderness of Alaska. He had been walking through forest and came to a rushing river that was impossible to swim across, but then a wise old bear said that he could create a bridge for him, only if he answered correctly three riddles. Uncle, being the cocky young man back then had agreed to the challenge and managed to answer them correctly. Finally, the bear requested a gift from him. Uncle did not have much left in his backpack but some meagre supplies and dirty underwear, and so he reached into his pockets and gave the bear an old candy wrapper that glinted like precious silver. The bear had accepted the gift and built a bridge that would help him cross the bridge. Having been allowed to pass Uncle started to walk over the bridge, but the further away he got from the bear the worse his eyes became. At first they became blurry, like frosted glass but then it began to darken like an encroaching smog until his world turned as black as a moonless night.

Since that telling his stories remained as varied and magical but never written down, like the Odyssey or the Iliad, his tales would rely on the memories of his listeners.

‘Why do you tell such stories?’ Keith had asked him once when he had grown impatient figuring out what was fact and what was fiction amongst the mythological like stories.

‘Ah, we Kogane’s are a secretive bunch,’ he had winked. It had not been a few years later that Keith had discovered a bear claw necklace in his Uncle’s room.

But Uncle was not the only one who shared stories as if they were gathered around a camp fire, Keith too liked to share a couple of his own though they were never as elaborative as his Uncles. Today though, Shiro had a story to tell, a story that shook Keith to his core and his Uncle turn as white as the Alaskan mountains he claimed to have conquered.

‘Have you ever heard of the Devil of Route 66?’ Shiro had asked.

No, neither of them had, which was strange considering the Drive Thru was located on an old, forgotten branch road that came off the famous route.

‘I don’t know how far the sightings go, but there haven’t been many, I think only two? But, people claim to hear it howling on nights of a full moon or chasing after cars.’

‘Sounds more like a werewolf than a devil,’ said Keith, his interest piqued.

‘It does doesn’t it?’ agreed Shiro.

‘What do these supposed witnesses say?’ said Uncle with a grunt.

‘Ah yes well, there have only been two.’

‘You’ve said that already, come on kid, get with the story!’

Keith scoffed, it was clear that Uncle was maybe just a little jealous that Shiro knew a story that he didn’t, maybe for him it was like the crown of storyteller was being lifted away from his head.

‘Yeah, so I mean, I think the first one, sighting I mean was over ten years ago now. There was this college girl, Alice I think her name was. Anyway, she had been backpacking for a couple of months, mainly hitchhiking. But, one night, she couldn’t get a ride and was kinda stuck out in the middle of nowhere. Luckily, she had a tent and so set up camp just off from the road. It was mostly a calm, normal night and so she went to sleep, but then she was woken to the sound of rustling just outside her tent.’

‘Coyote?’ asked Keith.

‘Well that was what she thought, and she had left her bag just by the front of the tent which had all of her food, so maybe the coyote was trying to get in. She opened her eyes and what did she see, not a coyote but a small creature, about the size of a child rummaging through her bag, and when it looked up at her it had glowing yellow eyes.’

Icy talons wrapped around Keith’s spine. He thought she hadn’t seen him.

‘Anyway, no one really knows what happened after that, some say the thing stole her hair for its nest whilst others say –‘

‘Chocolate bar. I-it stole a chocolate bar,’ stammered Keith. He had been out with his pa that night tracking coyotes and reading the stars, ‘like our ancestors once did’ pa had said. Usually, Keith stuck close to him, but on that night he had caught a hint of chocolate on the desert breeze and that had been enough for him to fall behind. He hadn’t meant to get lost, he just got distracted, but little did he realise that he’d be called a devil for it.

‘Hey, so you have heard the story?’

Stupid, he had been stupid! His pa had spanked him when he discovered where Keith had gotten that chocolate bar, and no wonder he did, it could have destroyed everything his pa had built for them. In that one moment of childish craving he could have found himself with a bullet in his head.

Keith’s mouth was bone dry, his tongue lay dead and his heart was beating at the speed of a stampede. Someone had seen him, their eyes saw his discoloured purple body, she had seen his demonic yellow eyes and began calling him ‘the devil’. Something had died inside him at that thought, he hadn’t realised it until now, but maybe he had still been holding a torch the size of a matchstick, that maybe, just maybe people could accept him – that Shiro could accept him. But that dream had shrivelled up along with his lungs and stole away his breath, Shiro hadn’t called him a ‘devil’ like what he presumed other storytellers did but rather a ‘thing’, at least a ‘devil’ had agency and supernatural allure, but a ‘thing’ debased him to inhuman, lower than an animal or a single celled organism. A ‘thing’ like Keith had guns, scalpels and electrified cages awaiting him if he were to be spotted, the threat of which now heightened by the constant presence of Shiro.

‘Yeah,’ Keith squeezed out of what remained of his withered voice box, ‘I just heard a slightly different story is all.’

Before Shiro could respond Uncle thankfully decided that now was the best time to end their lunch break, even though they technically still had another ten minutes left no one complained, allowing Keith to slip back to his usual perch and stare onto the blank page of his sketchbook.

A few more hours went past with more than the usual amount of customers, most of them being truckers taking a more scenic route to their far off destinations on the West Coast. The drivers grunted their orders and huffed their thank you’s in the same breath.

By closing time Keith had not drawn a single page, his large ears still ringing with the same word ‘thing, thing, thing’. It was gone six o’clock when the usual knock at the door disrupted his thoughts.

‘Hey, erm, Keith?’ said Shiro, his voice as light as it had been earlier whilst recounting his story. Shouldn’t you be calling me ‘thing’, Keith thought bitterly for a brief moment. 

‘See you tomorrow Shiro.’

Keith had meant to end their parting quickly, the office was suffocating and the walls began to look like the bars of a cage if he studied them for too long. Please, he begged internally, please Shiro, just go. 

‘Er actually, I wanted to ask you something, before I head out I mean. Would you like to come with me to the canyon sometime? My buddy Matt is going to set up a projector and we’re gonna watch some old films, did you want to come too? There’ll be popcorn and pizza and I swear I won’t have cooked any of it!’

Keith found it so hard to hear Shiro talk so earnestly towards him, for even for all that he had said to him Keith couldn’t help but long for Shiro’s gentle, fun loving nature – his friendship, the first he’d ever had, was too precious and delicate for even Keith to possess for his long clawed secrets would soon enough shatter it, whether the lies that shielded him or the truth that he lived every day.

‘I’m sorry Shiro, but pa wouldn’t really approve of me going. Have a nice night.’

Keith hoped that that was light enough to not sting Shiro too badly but also cut any further attempts to try and persuade him. Unless Shiro wanted a Halloween costume for company or better yet the devil of old route 66.

‘Oh, er okay, maybe next time. Goodnight Keith, see you tomorrow.’

Keith really hoped that was a slip of the tongue on Shiro’s part and not some veiled threat.

* * *

Shiro was going to regret this come 5 a.m. but right now, sitting atop the highest peak on Wolf Fang Ridge, otherwise known as Dutchman’s Drop, he couldn’t help but grin with manic pride. He was panting heavily from the steep climb and was coated in a sheen of sweat, and he really couldn’t care for the pain he would feel tomorrow. After all, pain had been his closest companion all these years, from his first steps as a little, chubby toddler to now, he was always in pain and tomorrow would just bring an extra dose to his strained muscles.

But, that was okay, he would grin and bear it out, just like he’s always done.

Shiro sat right on the edge with his feet, still wearing the laced up rock climbing shoes, dangling over the sharp drop below. His toes tingled from the stress and strain of the climb whilst his fingers stung with sharp pins from having clung so tightly to the rust like rock face. The climb had taken him a good while to conquer, what with the loose rock that slipped underneath his toes which had made his heart jump up his throat to join his tongue, temporarily gagging him with trepidation.

People have often called him an idiot, a risk taker or just suicidal, Adam having been one of those said people. Adam had been a constant worrier who had tried and failed to tame his daring spirit, though he was a pilot like Shiro, Adam was not the adventurous type and ultimately even he had to walk away. Shiro couldn’t be angry with Adam for that, eventually, everyone gave up on reining him in. It still hurt though, that another person let him go, it was getting to the stage now where he believed that no one could love him completely, not unless Shiro sacrificed a great part of himself. But Shiro couldn’t do that for there was always a loud voice in the back of his head telling him to ‘go, go, go’. It was a bit like having his own drill sergeant, thankfully not always shouting loud and degrading things in his ear, that only happened on his black days, when storm clouds clogged up his lungs and all he could think about were his failings. 

Climbing and flying helped keep those dark clouds away. If he couldn’t take a jet out for a spin he’d go for a climb, it was the closest thing to flying without rocket propulsion. It allowed him to focus, on the here and now, on the task at hand or the challenge that awaited him. And it also forced him to be patient, something his grandfather often implored him to be. If Shiro tried to rush up the cliff he would only fall further away from his goal.

When he climbed the highest peak in a fifty mile radius, Shiro could forget about everything, his disease, the garrison and the ticking clock of time. Here, he can just watch the sunset bleed onto the wide canvas that was the horizon and watch as the night swept it’s black cloak across the sky. The temperature change was also a joy to behold, especially after a sweaty climb. Being in a desert on the cusp between day and night was like sitting in a lukewarm, lucid bath with ice being added to the tub, cube by cube. And then it would be quiet. Shiro may have loved space, there was no doubt about that, but no flaming star or pot holed planet could beat earth and its almost spiritual healing quality of its sunsets. He tried to make this hike at least once a week, and upon reaching the top, he bathed in the dwindling sunlight and bracing air that had travelled across the geographic mastery that was the American West. The rays and cool breeze soothing his irritable skin. However, making the hike up here was certainly not legal, there were no public paths or roads, not even a sign, so Shiro had made his own path, he didn’t mind breaking the occasional rule. He cut through ancient barbed wire and jumped across steep ditches, thankfully he had yet to meet the bullet of an angry farmer.

But it was worth the risk, for up here he could be alone with his thoughts with only nature to keep him company. When the moon began its ascent he would sometimes hear the excitable yips of a pack of coyotes or, if he was lucky, a sweet pew from a soaring eagle above looking for its dinner. He didn’t believe in the devil that apparently roamed these parts, he was safe here just as long as he didn’t fall down a cliff or anger a rattle snake. Still, Shiro found it laughable what others seemed to believe, but he wasn’t a jerk either, let them believe what they want to believe, though Shiro did draw the line at flat earthers. 

Shiro breathed in deeply, the air feeling cooler already though the sun had only just set a few minutes ago. Recently, even during his climbs or his drills, his mind strangely began to wonder towards Keith. Shiro supposed that it was because Keith was a mystery, a voice from the other side of the door, a door that he had never seen opened or left unlocked. Keith was in his office before he turned up and was still there when he left at the end of the day. The only reason Shiro knew that he wasn’t talking to a robot was the artwork that occasionally slipped underneath the door, some were characters he knew like Erwin or Captain America, but there were others too he had been allowed to see which he couldn’t remember the names of, but all of them were brilliantly sketched, if there was one thing Shiro knew about Keith it was that he was a talented artist.

But the mystery remained, thought Shiro, who was Keith?

Shiro had been working at the Drive-Thru for a good few weeks now, enough so that his jeans permanently smelt of burgers and Matt’s dog followed him everywhere he went, drool flowing from its jowls. And yet, he had never seen Keith’s face. Shiro’s suspicions had been growing ever since that day he received the order note with ‘SOS’ scrawled in the margins, though Uncle had put him at ease, something didn’t sit right with Shiro and as the days and weeks bled into the other he realised that he was sitting on an illegal landmine. He had no proof, but he was beginning to suspect that Keith never left the Drive-Thru, whenever they spoke Keith never mentioned going outside, his days forever consisting of the four walls of his home. Granted, this little town didn’t offer much entertainment and yet whenever Shiro tried to invite Keith out he was shot down with a snipers efficiency.

Was Keith scared?

It made sense, whenever they spoke to one another it was always hushed and away from the sharp ears of Tex Kogane. Shiro had long since accepted his fear of the man who held an iron fist around the business and more so around his son.

Tex Kogane, Keith’s own father, was keeping him a prisoner, Shiro was certain of it, he just needed proof, if he could get that then maybe he could free Keith before his mission to Kerberos. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry!
> 
> I have been working on this damn chapter for months I swear, it has just taken a lot longer than I hoped to get everything in the correct order - I am probably going to revisit my story plans and do some tweaking but don't worry this hasn't been abandoned. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you are all doing well and staying safe, I live in England and we have been unlocking and so I have been distracted with elation for going to pubs and shops but then absolute terror about the virus. 
> 
> It was fun to get in the legend aspect of this story, it was the first element of this story idea I had and I was determined to squeeze it in here somewhere, I like the idea of Shane and Ryan maybe going down to Oasis and camping out trying to find our boy Keith. 
> 
> I always enjoy reading your comments, whenever I read one I melt into a puddle of happy goo, its not easy to convey that though through comments though! 
> 
> Stay safe everyone! :) 
> 
> (Just a note, I haven't beta read this as I was determined to publish this chapter today, so apologies for any mistakes - I will comb through this later)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tex worries and Keith begins making plans.

The coffee maker was grinding away at just after midnight, the bubbling tar like liquid sounded like Uncle’s secret sauce when he left it on the hob for more than the strict two and half minutes that his recipe demanded. The zip of a bag was next, slow and deliberate, as a few crunchy wrappers were stashed away into the bags depths.

Keith knew it was pa, preparing for another hike to the cabin, trying in vain to hail down an alien cab to take him away.

Most nights he could ignore it as he was either asleep or too tired to leave the warm nest that was his bed. But tonight, Keith’s mind had been whirring away with thoughts and fears. How many more people called him a ‘devil’ or what other names had been invented for him, was he a demon to some and a Sasquatch to others? With his mind going round in circles like the stirring of a stew, spiced with inappropriate thoughts of Shiro, Keith hadn’t realised the time until he heard his pa sneak tip toe down the stairs, skilfully avoiding the creaky floorboard on the third step.

Keith ground his teeth together, his little fangs peeking over his lower lip. He didn’t need this right now, he just wanted to sleep, to hopefully slip into a dreamless oblivion until his damn alarm clock screamed into his ears. He had tried to count sheep, but the fluffy animals had turned into nightmarish beasts that he had heard only in myths and legends. After that attempt he tried doing simple breathing exercises, but his mind always began to wander after counting to five breaths. No matter what he tried he was wide awake like the nocturnal animal he was claimed to be.

Hearing pa sneak around downstairs wasn’t helping Keith feel any better, it put him on edge, his claws elongating and scratching lightly against his ears which had gone floppy with fatigue. It was becoming an addiction for pa, to go out and hope his lucky numbers came up in the lottery of the galaxies. The cabin and the mad machinery that was the radio was like one of those slot machines that lit up in old bars and saloons, trying to seduce drunks out of their last couple of dollars with the promise of a big prize that never came to be. Pa was obsessed with the thought that perhaps tonight he’d get through…to her.

Keith growled, his tail flicking under the sheets in agitation.

He hated that woman.

In his younger years, before he had turned into what people would call the ‘devil of route 66’, he had thought often about his mother. He had wondered, did her voice tinkle like little bells or was her voice deep and commanding like the dinner ladies at school. Pa didn’t have any photos and his descriptions were very vague, _‘she was beautiful, like the stars’_ he would gush or _‘she wasn’t like anyone else I had ever met before’_. But unlike his pa, Keith was never enamoured with her and he never felt strong feelings of love towards the woman that birthed him. Keith’s curiosity gradually turned from indifference to hatred for the voiceless woman who, biologically at least, was his mother. He never felt the urge to use that radio, although when the radio had first been constructed his pa had urged him to say a couple of things into the microphone, at the time Keith was only a little kid and couldn’t think of much to say apart from ‘hi’. As Keith got older he realised how pointless pa’s mission was, space was vast and she was either dead or just didn’t care to return his calls. Keith was happy with that, after all he had never experienced a life with her so why should he care if she was alive or not?

But, listening to pa prepare for another night out in that cabin, talking to the microphone as if it was her own ears, he just couldn’t stand it, not now, not tonight. Pa was wasting away before his very eyes all for a worthless hope. Keith had seen the dark, sagging backs under his eyes, the paler complexion and the smiles that seemed to have melted away long ago. Pa was slowly turning into a husk of his former self.

Keith ripped off the bedsheets and slipped out of his room, not caring if he awoke Uncle or not. The backdoor had just closed, the rattle of the handle gave it away, and so he thundered down the stairs and through the kitchen until he was out in the cool, desert air, his pa’s retreating back just ahead of him, the backpack over his left shoulder, rifle on his right.

‘PA!’ he shouted.

Keith’s bare feet pounded the sun baked gravel pathway that winded out into the darkness of the desert beyond. But his calls were unacknowledged, his pa was in a trance as he continued on, the world around him, the loose rock that slipped underneath his combat boots, the empty sky above where even the moon had decided to stay in bed, nor his own son racing to catch up behind him.

Keith tore on after him, he prayed that he didn’t step on a scorpion or cacti in the dark. Thankfully anything with a stinger kept out of his way and in a few short strides Keith managed to catch up with his pa, the man still in a world of his own. Pa seemed to be bewitched, at least that was the only reason Keith could think of to explain his sudden deafness, the man had been trained in the military, served in campaigns abroad and worked with the garrison on occasions, a man with such a background would have known Keith was awake before even stepping out the back door.

Staring at the man’s back Keith felt like he was five years old again watching his pa walk away from him as the school gates closed, his hair still a mess even after pa had tried to comb it into obedience.

Keith gasped in a harsh lungful of sandy oxygen, his legs burning as he pushed forward,

His hands reached out as far as his arms could stretch away from his body.

He was ten years old again begging for another piggyback.

Keith’s unprotected feet tripped over loose rock, his toes stinging as he felt the sharp edged stone cutting red streaks across his exposed soles.

He was thirteen years old again as his pa first let him handle a pistol, Keith’s much smaller hands shaking in trepidation and excitement.

He was in the present, skin tingling in the cool night air, his feet now strangely warm and wet though the stinging pain had gone. He just wanted his pa to see him, to know that he’s always been right here. So many words came to his mind, they crashed, merged and blurred together in jumbles of English that were incoherent to anyone but him, they were wants, fears, hopes, dreams and nightmares all in one form, and he wanted to tell them all to his pa.

When did they grow so far apart from each other? Was it when Shiro first joined the Drive-Thru and their friendship (and on Keith’s part, crush) began to bloom? Could it be that this divide was far older, when the radio sent its first message into the unknown? Or was it when Keith first transformed into a form that resembled more of his damn mother than the man that raised him?

All Keith wanted was his pa again, not this husk of a man who scowled rather than grinned, he wanted the man who made the best tacos this side of the Mexican border, he wanted his pa who used to sleep in on Sundays and watch cartoons with him until lunchtime.

He was three years old again watching his pa walk away to another low paid, back breaking job, his babysitter, a disgruntled highschooler who never shared the pizza left for both of them.

‘PAAA!!!’

It was a guttural howl more akin to his legendary persona, he knew that his eyes were glowing like the harsh headlights of a truck, his claws were elongated even on his toes. He hoped pa still recognised him in this dark form.

Pa, finally, stopped and that was when Keith collided into his back, but his pa didn’t stutter forwards from the force, even in his exhausted state he was as sturdy as a mountain. Keith wrapped his arms around his pa, and clutched onto the front of his chest, his claws probably making small tears into his cotton shirt that smelt like coffee and lavender. Keith’s cheeks were smeared in tears and his nose sounded like he had a cold, but he refused to let go, he was done hiding his pain.

‘Keith? What, what are you doing out here?’

Keith could only whimper, those words that he had once known seemed to seep out from his tear ducts and like the radio in that cabin his voice remained silent.

‘Keith,’ pa now asked more firmly, his tone slipping into concern, ‘what’s the matter?’

Pa grasped Keith’s hands that had turned to fists and very likely wrinkling his shirt, but he didn’t take them away but rather just held them tenderly, grounding Keith in the moment.

‘Please pa, don’t…’

‘Don’t what? Keith, talk to me.’ 

Keith coughed, the desert dust irritating his throat making his voice as bleeding raw as his heart.

‘Please, don’t, don’t send me away.’

A sigh escaped through pa’s lips and Keith knew that this was going to be a battle and not a confession.

‘Keith-’

‘Don’t give up on me, please! Just, just listen, please!’

There was a moment of silence, perhaps because pa was slowly trying to sew together a sentence or maybe Keith had his attention – either way, this might be his only chance.

‘I know that you are trying to reach her, but she’s never coming back pa, you have to accept that, she made her choice and she left us both and she won’t come back just because you keep calling.’

‘Keith-’

‘And I don’t want to leave! This is my home, with you and Uncle here on earth, not with her! She’s not my family, you are!’

He knew he was shouting and he probably didn’t need to, but if he shouted loud enough then maybe even his own damn mother will hear and stay far, far away from earth. She had done enough damage to last two lifetimes.

‘Keith! Your mother loves you and-’

‘No she doesn’t! If she did then she would never have left!’

Pa broke away from Keith’s arms but did not turn to face him.

‘Don’t say that, you have no idea how much she loved you’ said pa. It was hardly even a whisper, more of a pained hiss coming from a wounded animal with a punctured windpipe.

‘Then why did she leave us? So what, she makes a baby and then runs, yeah that sounds very loving, what a great mother!’

Keith knew this was hurting them both, his words had turned into bullets, firing at every direction but always finding their marks. But he couldn’t stop, so much needed to come out to the surface, it needed to be aired.

‘Don’t, Keith, don’t,’ pa warned, but Keith was not done.

‘I hate that woman and what she has done to us, can’t you see?!’

‘You don’t mean that-’ Pa began.

‘Stop trying to send me away, I don’t want to go!’

The rapid machine gun fire that had been his voice came to an abrupt end. That was the last of his ammo, he had nothing left.

‘I-I’m sorry Keith, but this is the only way I can keep you safe.’

Pa hadn’t even turned to look at him and with that he continued on his lonely march to that damn cabin.

Static filled his ears, the silence of the universe engulfed him and he knew he was alone. The loneliness had stalked him to this moment where it now loomed over his shoulders like a towering beast. Hot tears spilled silently out from his eyes watering the earth below him. He was not cold but he wrapped his arms around himself, his shoulders shaking, but like that radio no sound came out of his lips.

Who did Keith have in this world, in this galaxy, if he didn’t have his pa?

Did he have a home? Did he even have a family, or had his biology stolen that from him too?

He certainly had no friends, though he wished with all his heart that he could count Shiro, he knew their relationship was nothing but a shallow puddle soon to evaporate away.

Maybe it was time for him to disappear he thought, his tail flicked nervously from side to side as a plan began to build and stick in his mind. Keith had always wanted to move out of the desert to somewhere more green and vibrant. When he was a kid he used to go through his Uncle’s photo collection from his traveling days, New Mexico to Alaska the man had travelled the width of the country and scoured through canyons, caves and forests, there were even pictures from places in Europe, Asia and South America. Those pictures all whispered the same thing to Keith’s eager eyes and curious heart, there’s a whole world outside that door and its waiting for you. When he was bored he would stare into those pictures and imagine himself swimming in Loch Ness or climbing the steep paths to Manchu Pichu, and sometimes those pictures answered back in their own magical way, like the postcard from Yellowstone which smelt of fresh pine and root beer. Originally, it had been a child’s escapist fantasy, in his imagination he trekked north out of Texas, avoiding twisters in Oklahoma and then surfing the prairies up until the Dakotas before skipping across the border into Canada. Keith had never abandoned this plan, though it had been collecting dust in the corners of his mind for the last couple of years, he didn’t think he would need to use it until both Uncle and pa’s ashes were scattered across the canyon. But, it would seem that the plan was going to be actioned much earlier than he had anticipated. 

His home was no longer here with his pa or Uncle, made apparent by pa’s continued efforts to call his mother to whisk him away from the only planet he knew. His home was not amongst the normal people, like Shiro, he had been brandished a devil after all so there was no hope there. His home was definitely not with his mother, the damn woman responsible for this entire mess that was his life.

No, it was time for him to make his own home, alone, where it snowed in winter and bloomed green in the spring, there would be no other humans. It would just be him, in his log cabin, far, far away, from roasting deserts, delusional fathers and kind, wannabe space pilots. 

Keith slowly returned back to the Drive Thru, his feet burning as cacti needles and sharp rocks stabbed his ankles, soles and toes. When he got into the kitchen, the backdoor having been left open, he noticed blood trickling out from the many gashes on his feet and leaving a clear trail across the laminate floor. The blood was red and had not a hint of alien about it, at least appearance wise. Keith sneered and half considered leaving the blood to cool and paint the floor, but eventually he decided to just clean it up. 

When his feet and the kitchen floor had been taken care of Keith didn’t have the energy to climb the stairs back to his bed, rather he collapsed onto the couch, burying his face into the brown cushions.

* * *

There had been no answer that night, just like the night before, his radio only spitting out the same static. Fiddling with the channel dials made no change to either static tone or reception, but Tex thought he would give it just one more go for this evening before packing up.

‘Krolia,’ he sighed her name deeply as if he was starting a prayer, ‘I need your help, Keith needs you, he’s been getting these fevers and they are getting worse. I-I don’t know what to do anymore. Please, help him.’

And, as usual, no reply came.

Tex yawned, his jaws opening wide in a satisfying stretch though the tiredness still didn’t slip out of his body. He turned the radio off and collected his gear before leaving the cabin, locking the door as he left, and began the trek back home. The sun had yet to rise from the horizon but the growing warmth in the air implied it would soon be upon him.

Tex was so tired, it was a fatigue that he had never felt before even when he had been out on campaigns, so deep it was in his mind and bones he felt his body sway in a staggering motion.

Just how long could he keep this up, he thought to himself.

But he knew the answer, for as long as he still breathed he would always try and find a way to help his boy. If only Keith could understand.

The words that Keith had thrown at him returned to his ears again, the hiccups in his voice as the boy fought against the sobs in his throat. God, he knew this was hard on him, but if only he could see what was happening to him, those fevers that ravaged his body and left him so weak that no eighteen year old should ever feel. Tex had never felt so helpless, not until that day when Keith’s temperature continued to rise and rise, his insides boiling, the boy could only groan in his unconscious state. He didn’t know if Keith could survive the next fever, the last one had been three months ago, Tex had tied the boy down to the bed as he hallucinated and spoke utter gibberish before screaming in pain. If Tex had been superstitious, he would have said Keith was possessed by a demon intent on torturing him, but in reality, it was just his hybrid biology fighting with itself.

There was no remedy here on earth, at least nothing that wouldn’t cost his son being caged up and tranquilised. And so, their hopes lay in alien medicine, it was a longshot, so long that it stretched the entire galaxy, but there was still a chance.

Tex made it home just as the sun began to peak above Wolf Fang Ridge, he turned on the coffee maker and placed his flask from the night before in the sink to soak. With a freshly brewed coffee in hand, hr went to sit down on the couch in the living room and maybe watch some tv. But, as he walked through the doorway he was welcomed by the sight of Keith, collapsed amongst the coffee stained couch, wearing flushed purple skin and a heaving rib cage that threatened to break bones. 

Keith’s fever had returned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *throws chapter and hides underneath rock* 
> 
> Ooof boy this was a heart wrenching chapter to write, honestly I don't delight in torturing our boys! There will be fluff one day in this fic...one day. Which reminds me, I have extended the chapter length of this story to 30 rather than 15, because this story is just getting bigger and bigger. There is a possibility that this will turn into a series, but I need to assess my storyline plans before I can officially say. I am hoping that now autumn is coming (my favourite season) I will be able to write more, I honestly don't know how anyone can write in temperatures about 15 degrees (Celsius) - up until recently I have been melting over my laptop.
> 
> I am also working on several other stories at the moment too, so I'm sorry for the delay in my chapters, I have so many ideas that I sometimes forget how to write - I found that reading new books or watching films help, though the latter has sucked me into a new fandom which I am now writing a fic for. If anyone has seen The Old Guard then please feel free to gush with me in the comments XD 
> 
> Thank you all for your lovely kudos and comments, I am blown away that so many of you enjoy this fic (even with so much angst) - I do wish that AO3 allowed us to post gifs in the comments section as honestly it is so hard to convey my love and gratitude for you all, so thank you so much! 
> 
> I hope you are all safe and well!

**Author's Note:**

> If you wish to support and feed me then please hit that kudos button below or leave me a comment! 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and see you all in the next chapter :)


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